Lives of Indian officers

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LIVES OF INDIAN

OFFICERS.

BY

Sir J.iW. KAYE.

IN TWO VOLUMES-'VOL. I.

NEW EDITION.

LONDON :
W. H. ALLEN & CO., 13, WATERLOO PLACE,

PALL MALL, S.W.

1889.
{Aii rights reserved,)

Ka3
v.i

LONDON :
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING GROSS.

f34b04-234

PREFACE.

I THINK that something should be said r^arding the
circumstances, which have resulted in the publication of
this book.

Two or three years ago, I was invited by the editor and
by the proprietor of Good Words to write a series of bio-
graphical papers illustrative of the careers of some of our
most distinguished * Indian Heroes.' As the materials, in
most instances, were not to be obtained from printed books
or papers, to perform this task in a satisfactory manner —
that is, to write month after month, throughout the year, a
memoir of some soldier or statesman distinguished in Indian
history — ^would have been impossible to one, the greater
part of whose time was devoted to other duties, if it had
not chanced that for many years I had been gathering, from
different original sources, information relating both to the
public services and the private lives of many of those whose
careers it was desired that I should illustrate. I had many
large manuscript volumes, the growth of past years of his-
torical research, full of personal correspondence and bio-
graphical notes, and I had extensive collections of original
papers, equally serviceable, which had not been transcribed.
As, therefore, only to a very limited extent, I had to go

PREFACE.

abroad in search of my materials, I felt that I might accept
the invitation and undertake the task, Grod willing, without
danger of breaking down. The temptations, indeed, were
very great — ^the greatest of all being the opportunity of
awakening, through a popular periodical counting its readers
by hundreds of thousands, the interests of an immense mul-
titude of intelligent people, whom every writer on Indian
subjects is painfully conscious of being unable to reach
through the medium of bulky and high-priced books.

Of the Lives, which I selected for illustration, the greater
number had never been written before, and of those which
had been written before, I had unpublished records which
enabled me to impart some little freshness to my memoirs.
The sketches were published originally without any chrono-
logical arrangement. They appeared, in uninterrupted suc-
cession, during the year 1865. The great difficulty with
which I had to contend was the necessary limitation of
space. I was often compelled to curtail the memoirs after
they were in print, and thereby to exclude much interesting
illustrative matter. As, however, the republication of the
Lives in a separate work had been determined upon, I had
less regret in effecting these mutilations. The excised
passages are now restored, and [new additions made to the
memoirs, considerably exceeding in extent the whole of the
original sketches. I may say, indeed, that the work has
been almost entirely re-written, the chapters in the periodical
having been little more than sketches of the more finished
portraits which are now produced after fifteen additional
months of conscientious research.

Of the materials, of which I have spoken, something

PREFACE. yE

more should be said, the more especially, as in one or two
instances I have to acknowledge the assistance that I have
derived from other writers. For much of the valuable in-
formation contained in the memoir of Comwallis I am in-
debted to Mr Ross's very ably-executed work. It should
be stated, however, that long before his book was announced
I had contemplated the preparation of a Life of Lord Corn-
wallis, and had amassed a considerable stock of materials in
illustration of it. In 1850, I wrote to Lord Braybrooke,
soliciting permission to consult the records of the CornwaUis
femily, and I received in reply a very courteous reftisal —
•which, indeed, as I was wholly imknown in England at
that time, I ought to have expected — accompanied with a
statement that a prohibition had been laid upon the pub-
lication of these family papers. I was rejoiced to find after-
wards that the prohibition had been removed, and that the
editing of the correspondence had been placed in such good
hands. I believe, however, that the student of Mr Ross*s
book may find something new in my slender memoir j and,
at all events, for reasons stated at its commencement, there
is a peculiar fitness in its insertion in this work, which the
reader will be well disposed to recognize. The Lives of Sir
John Malcolm and Sir Charles Metcalfe I had already
written in detail, but I felt that two such names could not
be excluded from my muster-roll. For a memoir of Mr
Elphinstone I had a considerable mass of original memorials,
but no amount of correspondence in my possession would
have rendered me wholly independent of the very able and
interesting biography communicated by Sir Edward Cole-
brooke to the Journal of ike Asiatic Society, The well^

tia PREFACE.

known voJumes of Sargent and Wilberforce, illustrative erf
the life of Henry Martyn, have of course yielded the chief
materials on which the brief memoir of that Christian hero
is based 5 but from the correspondence of Charles Grant the
elder, made over to me by his son, the late Lord Glenelg,
I have been able to glean something to impart a little novelty
to this the most familiar chapter of my work.

The memoirs of Eumes, ConoUy, Pottinger, Todd,
Henry Lawrence, Neill, and Nicholson, are all written from
original materials supplied to me by relatives or friends.
The journals and correspondence of Sir Alexander Barnes
were given to me by his brother, the late Dr James Burnes,
and much supplementary information has been derived from
other sources. The journals of Eldred Pottinger were ob-
tained for me from his family, when I was writing the
History of the War in Afghanistan, by the assistance ol
Captain William Eastwick, now of the Indian Council, who
was one of Sir Henry Pottinger's most cherished friends and
associates 5 and the journals of Arthur ConoUy came into
my possession when I was writing the same work. From
the families of both I have received very ^valuable assistance
since I commenced the preparation of these volumes. With
D*Arcy Todd and Henry Lawrence, officers of the Bengal
Artillery, I had the privilege of being on terms of cherished
friendship. For the memoir of the former abundant
materials were supplied to me by his brother. Colonel
Frederick Todd 5 and for that of the latter I have chiefly
relied on my own private resources, knowing that Sir Her-
bert Edwardes is writing a life of his great and good friend,
which will leave nothing unsaid that ought to be said about

PREFACE.

him. Following out the list in chronological sequence^ I
then come to the memoirs of those two great soldiers who
died so nobly for their country just as fame was dawning
upon them — Neill and Nicholson. From the widow of
the one and from the mother of the other I received the
memorials which have enabled me to write, very imperfect-
ly, I fear, the lives of those heroic men j but an opportunity
may yet be allowed to me, in another work, of doing further
justice to soldiers who have reflected so much glory on the
great Army of the East India Company.

Although to some small extent, perhaps, accidental cir-
cumstances may have favoured my choice of these parti-
cular Indian worthies, from among so many, I think it will
be I considered that on the whole they represent the Indian
Services as fairly and as completely as if the selection had
been wholly the result of an elaborate design.* For it will
be*^ seen that I have drawn my examples from all the three
great national divisions of the British Empire — ^that Eng-
lishmen, Scotchmen, and Irishmen come equally to the
front in these pages. Comwallis, Metcalfe, Marty n, and
Todd were Englishmen — pure and simple. Malcolm,
Elphinstone, Burnes, and Neill were Scotchmen. Pottin-
ger and Nicholson were Irishmen. Ireland claims also
Henry Lawrence as her own, and Arthur Conolly had

* There is one omission, however, so observable, that something
should be said respecting it It will occasion surprise to many that
the name of Sir James Outram does not appear in the list. There is
no other reason for this than that he is entitled to a book to himself,
and that I hope soon to be able to discharge what is both a trust con-
fided to me by the departed hero, and a promise made to the loving
ones whom he has left behind.

PREFACE,

Irish blood in his veins. It will be seen, too, that I have
drawn my examples from all the three great presidential
divisions of India. MetcaJfe, Martyn, Conolly, Todd,
Lawrence, and Nicholson were Bengal officers, and served
chiefly in that Presidency \ Malcolm and Neill came from
the Madras Presidency ^ Bumes and Pottinger belonged to
Bombay 5 whilst Elphinstone, though nominally attached
to the Bengal Civil Service, spent the greater part of his
official life in Western India. It will be also seen that
nearly every branch of the Service is illustrated in these
biographies,* and, in the military division, every arm is
fairly represented. Todd, Lawrence, and Pottinger were
Artillery officers. Arthur Conolly was of the Cavalry.
Neill was attached to the European Infantry, and Burnes
and Nicholson to the native branch of the same service —
in which also Malcolm commenced his career. From all
of which it may be gathered that it little mattered whence
a youth came, or whither he went, or to what service he
was attached 5 if he had the right stuff in him, he was
sure to make his way to the front.

The memoirs being now published in chronological
sequence, I am not without a hope that the collection may
be regarded in some sort as a Biographical History of
India from the days of Cornwallis to the days of Canning.

* I must express my regret that the volumes contain no example
drawn from the Medical Service of the East India Company — ^a serv-
ice which was never wanting in men equally eminent for those pro-
fessional attainments which are exercised so imstintingly in the cause
of our suffering humanity, and for those heroic qualities which are
exemplified by deeds of gallantry in the field, and by lives of daring
adventure.

k

PREFACE.

All the great wars which, during those momentous three-
quarters of a century, have developed so remarkably the
military and political genius of the 'Services,' are illus-
trated, more or less, in these pages. The two great wars
with Tippoo, the earlier and later Mahrattah wars, the war
in Afghanistan, the Punjab wars, and the Sepoy war, afford
the chief incidents of the book. But the Historical is
everywhere subordinated to the Biographical. I have not
attempted, indeed, to write History j it has grown up spon-
taneously out of the lives of tlie great men who make
History. But if it should not be of any value as a History
of India, I may still hope that it will be accepted as a not
uninteresting contribution to a History of the great Indian
Services — the Military and Civil Services of the East India
Company. Those Services are now extinct. I have striven
to show what they were in their best days ^ and unless the
ability of the execution has fallen far short of the sincerity
of the design, I have done something in these pages to do
honour to a race of public servants unsurpassed in the
history of the world.

And I hope that, as a record of those services, thi«
book, however imperfect the execution of it, may not be
without its uses. I have striven to show how youths, from
the middle-class families of our British islands, have gone
forth into the great Eastern world, and by their own
unaided exertions carved their way to fame and fortune.
The Patronage-system of the East India Company, long
condemned as a crying abuse, and at last, as such, utterly
abolished, opened the gates of India to a hardy, robust
race of men, who looked forward to a long and honourably

stt PREFACE.

career, and looked back only to think of the joy with which
their success would be traced by loving friends in their old
homesteads. But it is not now said for the first time that
the system could not have been very bad which produced
a succession of such public servants as those who are as-
sociated with the history of the growth of our great Indian
Empire, and as many others who in a less degree have con-
tributed to the sum of that greatness. For the heroes of
whom I have written are only representative men 3 and,
rightly considered, it is the real glory of the Indian
Services, not that they have sent forth a few great, but that
they diffiised over the country so many good, public officers,
eager to do their duty, though not in the front rank. Self-
reliance, self-help, made them what they were. The
* nepotism of the Court of Directors ' did not pass beyond
the portico of the India House. In India every man had
a fair start and an open course. The son of the Chairman
had no better chance than the son of the Scotch farmer or
the Irish squire. The Duke of Wellington, speaking of
the high station to which Sir John Malcolm had ascended
after a long career of good work accomplished and duty
done, said that such a fact ' operated throughout the whole
Indian service, and the youngest cadet saw in it an example
he might imitate — a success he might attain.' And this,
indeed, as it was the distinguishing mark, so was it the
distinguishing merit of the Company's services j and there
grew up in a distant land what has been rightly called a
great 'Monarchy of the Middle Classes,' which, it is
hoped for the glory of the nation, will never be suffered to
die.

PREFACE. xm

I wish that the yoath of England should see in these
volomes what men^ merely by the force of their own per-
sonal characters, can do for their country in India, and
what they can do for themselves. I feel that on lajring
down the book some readers may say that the discourage-
ments are at least as great as the encouragements, for that
to a large proportion of those of whom I have written
Death came early, and in many instances with sudden
violence, fiut I know too well the temper of the men
from whom our armies are recruited to believe that the
record of such heroic deaths as those of Todd and Lawrence,
Neill and Nicholson, will make any man less eager to face
the risks of Indian life.

' Whoe'er has reached the highest pinnade
Of fame by glorious toil or daring skill,
.... let him possess his soul in quietness
And bear his honours meekly ; at the last,
E'en gloomy death will have for such a one
Some gleams of brightness, for he wilt bequeath
To the dear ofispring of his heart and race
Their best inheritance — an honoured name.* *

The deterring circumstances which threaten to impair
the efficiency of the Services are of a different kind. I am
afraid that there has grown up, in these latter days, a general
dislike to Indian service, and that those who go out to the
East are ever in a hurry to come home again. The ' nepot-
ism of the East India Company ' had its uses. It was said

• Tremenhere's Pindar— a book in which the noble and
inspiring thoughts of the old Greek poet are rendered in simple,
manly English, well adapted to such a theme as the exploits of
Heroes.

tbr PREFACE.

to be a monstrous thing that the services of the East India
Company were, to a great extent, hereditary services, and
that whole families should be saddle4 upon India, generation
after generation. We only discovered the good of this after
we had lost it. That enthusiasm which is so often spoken
of in these volumes as the essential element of success in
India, was nourished greatly by these family traditions.
The men who went out to India in those old days of the
East India Company did not regard themselves merely as
strangers and sojourners in the land. They looked to India
as a Home, and to Indian service as a Career — ^words often
repeated 5 but as their repetition is the best proof of their
truth, I need not be ashamed of saying them again. It is
in no small nieasure because I wish that others should go
forth from our English homes on the same mission, and
with the same aspirations, that I have written these memoirs,
and if I have induced even a few, contemplating these
heroic examples, to endeavour to do likewise, I shall not
have written in vain.

J. W. KAYE.

Norwood, Af(^^ 1867.

TO

GENERAL

SIR GEORGE POLLOCK,

O.C.B.y G.C>S.I.f

AMD

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

SIR JOHN MAIR LAWRENCE, Bart.,

G.CB.y G.CS.I.y

THB MOST DISTINGUISHED LIVING RBPRBSBNTATIVBS

OP THB

MILITARY AND CIVIL SERVICES OF THE EAST

INDIA COMPANY,

THBSB VOLUMBS ARB APPBCTIONATBLY XNSCRIBBIX

LIVES

OF

INDIAN OFFICERS.

LORD CORNWALLIS.

[born X738.— died 2805.]

NOT of men of large estate, bom to greatness,
whom family influence and political power ele-
vated to high official position, without the toilsome and
the patient ascent, has it been my purpose to write in
these Memoirs, but of men who, by the unaided force of
their own personal characters, made their way to the front,
along the open road of a graduated public service. But
there can be no fitter prologue to these illustrations of
native worth and noble self-reUance than that which may be
found in the life of the man who made the public service
of India what it has been and is in this nineteenth century.
By Lord Cornwallis, who was three times selected by
the King's Government to fill the chief seat of the Indian
Government, and who twice discharged its duties, the civil
and military servants of the Company were raised from a

VOL. I. I

LORD CORNWALLIS. [1738.

baud of adventurers, enriching themselves by obscure
processes and doubtful gains, to a class of virtuous and
zealous public functionaries, toiling ever for their country's
good. There were, doubtless, brave and strong men before
the coming of this Agamemnon 5 but official purity was
almost unknown in those days, and rapidly to acquire
wealth by dishonourable means was so uniformly the rule
of the adventurer, that no one accounted it dishonour in
others, or felt it to be dishonour in himself. Of the
corruption, which then traversed the land. Lord Cornwallis
sounded the death-knell. And from that time the great
Company of Merchants, which governed India, was served
by a succession of soldiers and civilians unsurpassed in
rectitude of life by any whose names are recorded in the
great muster-roll of the world. Therefore, I say, there
can be no fitter introduction to such a work as this than a
brief account of the soldier-statesman who, by purifying
the public service of India, bas enabled the historian to
write of men as good as they were great, and to illustrate
their careers in detail without any dishonest reserve or any
painful admissions.

The family of Cornwallis is said to have been, as far as
it can be traced backwards, originally of Irish stock 3 but
its grandeur seems to have been derived, in the first instance,
from- the city of London. One Thomas Cornwallis settled
himself in the great English capital, took successfully to
trade, and in 1378 became one of the sheriffs of the City.
baving amassed considerable wealth, he bought some broad

k

1738.] SCHOOL UFE,

lands in Suffolk^ to which his son John^ who represented
the county in Parliament, added by the purchase of the
estate of Brome. From that time the family rose steadily
in importance, being always steadfast in their loyalty to
the Throne. In 1599, William Cornwallis was knighted
at Dublin for his services against the Irish rebels, and in
1627, Frederick Cornwallis, his son, was created a baronet
by Charles the First. After the death of Sir William
Cornwallis, his widow married Sir Nathaniel Bacon, a
half-brother of the philosopher, but only enjoyed a single
year of this second state of wedded life. The marriage,
however, had one important result. Sir Nathaniel Bacon,
who died in 161 5, left the estate of Culford, near Bury,
in Suffolk, to his widow, from whom it in due course
descended to Sir Frederick Cornwallis, and became the
principal seat of the family. Having thus become an
important member of the landed aristocracy of the county,
and being distinguished for his loyalty to the Stuarts, Sir
Frederick Cornwallis, on the 20th of April, 1661, was
created Baron Cornwallis of Eye. On the 30th of June,
J 753, the fifth Baron was raised to an earldom by the title
of Earl Cornwallis and Viscount Brome.

He had married in 1722 a daughter of Lord Towns-
hend; and five daughters in succession had been born to
him, when just as the old year, 1738, was dying out, the
Cornwallis family, then resident in Grosvenor-square, were
gladdened by the birth of an heir to the title. On the
15th of January following the boy was baptized at St
George's, Hanover-square, and received the name of
Charles. Of his childhood it would appear that there is

4 LORD CORNWAILIS, [1738.

no record 3 but whilst yet a little fellow Charles Comwallis
was sent to Eton, and made such good progress, that, when
only half through his sixteenth year, he was near the top of
the sixth form.* At school an accident befell him which
might have had very serious consequences. It would
seem that in those days the laws of ' hockey,' as played at
Eton, were not instituted in accordance with those prin-
ciples of safety which were observed at a later period. A
schoolfellow, by a sad mischance, struck him on the eye
with his hockey-stick, so violently as for a time to endanger
his sight, and to produce ' a slight but permanent obliquity
ol vision.' t It was, not improbably, in consequence of
this and similar accidents, that a rule was passed compelling
the player to use his stick with both hands and never to
lift the crook above the knee of the striker.

On leaving Eton, Lord Brome — for by this time his
father had been promoted to an earldom — made free choice
of the Army for his profession. At the age of eighteen a
commission was obtained for him in the First Regiment
of Guards 5 and he began at once to think seriously of
doing his duty, with all his might, in the state of life to
which he had been called 3 and, being a soldier, to make
himself a good one. The Duke of Cumberland then com-

* I stated in this Memoir as originally published, that he went
to Eton as Lord Brome. The same statement is made by Mr Ross
in his most valuable and well-edited collection of Comwallis papers.
But as the title of Viscoimt Brome was not created imtil the young
heir was far advanced in his fifteenth year, it is obvious that he went
to Eton not as Lord Brome, but as Mr Comwallis.

t Ross, p. 3. — ^The boy was Shute Barrington, afterwards Bbhop
successively, of Llandafif, Salisbury, and Durham.

^7S7—!^-'\ THE SEVEN YEARS' WAR, 5

manded the Army, and from him permission was sought
for the yomig Guardsman to travel on the Continent, and
at some foreign Military Academy to qualify himself for
the active duties of his profession. The desired leave was
granted in a letter from his Royal Highness to Lord Corn-
wallis, without any stops in it, in which he paid Lord
Brome a somewhat equivocal compliment by saying that
he had Mess of our home education tlian most young men.'
So, accompanied by a Prussian officer named Roguin, as
his travelling tutor, the young nobleman left England, and
after exploring some of the great continental cities, estab-
lished himself at the famous Military Academy at Turin,
where he entered upon a course of study profitable alike
to body and to mind. He began his day's work at seven
o'clock with dancing exercise in the public salon 5 at eight
he took a course of German 3 from nine to eleven he spent
in the riding-school 5 at eleven he was handed over to the
Maitre d'Armesj from twelve to three was devoted to
dinner and recreation 5 at three he received private instruc-
tion in mathematics and fortification ^ and at five he had
private dancing lessons. ' En suite,' said M. de Roguin^
in an amusing letter to the Earl, written in very bad
French, 'quelques visites, I'Op^ra et le souper,' He
made good progress in his exercises, especially in those of
the more active kind, and evinced an excellent disposition,
a power of self-control and resistance of evil, very unusual,
at that time, in young aristocrats at the dawn of manhood.
But there was better training than that to be derived
from scholastic life m any military academy, and Lord
firome was eager to gain experience in the great school of

6 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1758—61.

active warfare. Events were taking shape which threatened,
or, in the estimation of the young soldier promised, to turn
the continent of Europe into a great camp. ' I see swarms
of Austrians, French, Imperialists, Swedes, and Russians,'
wrote Lord Chesterfield in August, 1758, Mn all near
four hundred thousand men, surrounding the King of
Prussia and Prince Ferdinand, who have about a third of
that number. Hitherto they have only buzzed, but now
I fear they will sting.* England was about to cast in her
lot with the weaker side, and to espouse what to many
on-lookers seemed a hopeless cause. * Were it any other
man than the King of Prussia,* said the same brilliant
letter-writer, a few weeks afterwards, ' I should not
hesitate to pronounce him ruined, but he is such a
prodigy of a man that I will only say I fear he may be
ruined.* Lord Brome was at Geneva when tidings
reached him that an English army was about to be
employed in Germany, and that the Guards were to
take the field. This roused all his military enthusiasm,
and he hurried through Switzerland, cursing the country
for its want of posts, and arrived at Cologne only to find
himself too late. ' Only imagine,' he wrote to his friend
and relative, Tom Townshend, 'having set out without
leave, come two hundred leagues, and my regiment gone
without me ! * What was to be done ? He might offer
hmiself as a volunteer to Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick,
but it was reported that the King had forbidden, and that
the Duke had set his face against, volunteering. He
' resolved, however, to try, and was received in the kindest
manner.* Six weeks afterwards the English, under Lord

i7?9-6i.J THE SEVEN YEARS' WAR, 1

_^ •

Granby, joined the camp at Dulraen, in Westphalia ; and
the Greneral then appointed Lord Brome an aide-de-camp
on his personal staff.

Nothing could have pleased the young soldierbetter than
this, for there was an opportunity of seeing service under
the happiest auspices. After little less than a year*s cam-
paigning, it was his fortune to be present at a great action,
in which the English took a conspicuous part. On the ist
of August, 1759, the battle of Minden was fought — not
wholly to our national glory — and Lord Brome rode beside
the Commander of the British forces. Soon after this
affair, he was promoted to a company in a newly-formed
regiment, the Eighty-fifth, and was compelled to join it in
England. There he remained until 1761, when, in his
twenty-third year, he was promoted to the rank of Lieu-
tenant-Colonel, and placed in command of the 12th Foot,
which was then with the army in Germany. Hastening to
loin the camp of Lord Granby, he found his old friend pre-
paring for active operations against the enemy. The French
Grenoral, Broglie, had been joined by the Prince de Soubise,
and they were meditating an attack on the English and
Hanoverian lines near Hohenower. On the evening of the
ijth of July, Broglie flung himself with desperate resolu-
tion on Lord Granby's outposts, feeling well assured that
he would carry ever)' thing before him. The English Gener-
al, not forgetful of his old aide-de-camp, gave Lord Brome
an opportunity of distinguishing himself, by sending him to
the support of the picquets 3 and he did his work so well
that the enemy were repulsed with heavy loss, and next
day^ wnen tne action became general^ were fairly beaten.

8 LORD CORNWALLIS. [1761-^1^

Throughout the remainder of this year and the earlier part
of 1762, Lord Brome saw much service with his regiment
in (jrermany, and was repeatedly engaged in minor affairs
with the enemy. The Twelfth was one of the best regiments
in the field, and was always in the front when there was
work to be done.

But the famous Seven Years' War was now drawing to a
close. France was exhausted 5 England was weary 5 and
Prussia had gained, or rather retained^ all that she desired.
The time had come for serious negotiation tending to a fa-
vourable issue. In the personal history, too, of Lord Brome
an important conjuncture had arisen. On the 23rd of July,
1762, his father died, and he became Earl Comwallis. In
the course of the following November he took his seat in
the House of Lords. But his heart was with his old regi-
ment, and he still clung to his military duties. He loved
country quarters better than the atmosphere of Parliament
and the Court, and he went with the Twelfth from one
country town to another, with no wish to take part in the
strife of political factions, or in the intrigues surrounding
the throne of the young King. He was at no time of his
life a very vehement partisan.. Loyal to the core, he sup-
ported the Sovereign and his Ministers when he could do
so with a safe conscience. If he followed any man, it was
Lord Shelburne, with whom he had lived on terms of in-
timacy, when they were brothers-in-arms on the great
battle-fields of (Germany, and who had laid down the sword
for the portfolio, and entered upon that career of statesman-
ship which led him in time to the Premiership of England.

In 1 76 j, the Rockingham Ministry was formed^ and

1768—70] MARRIAGE

the new Prime Minister, being anxious to conciliate Lord
Shelbume by serving his friends, appointed Lord Cornwallis
a Lord of the Bed-chamber. A few weeks afterwards he
was made an Aide-de-camp to the King. In the following
year he was appointed Colonel of "Oie Thirty-third Regiment,
and one of the Chief Justices in Eyre, a conjunction of offices
which may appear to the uninitiated reader strange and in-*
consistent, but the functions of the Chief Justiceship, which
was a relic of old feudal times, mainly relating to the mat-
ter of forest rights, had long since fallen into desuetude, and
the office had become a sinecure.

In the month of July, 1768, being then in his thirtieth
year. Lord Cornwallis married a daughter of Colonel Jon^s.,
of the Second Regiment of Guards. With this lady, who
was eight or nine years his junior, he lived for some time in
a state of almost unclouded happiness. In March, 1769, a
daughter was bom to them. He does not appear to have
taken, at this time, much part in public affairs. The
American question was then beginning to assume gigantic
proportions, and no man could help having, or avoid ex-
pressing, opinions on such a subject. The sympathies of
Lord Cornwallis were with the A mericans and Lord Chat-
ham. In March, 1766, a few months before that great
statesman was raised to the Peerage, the young Earl had
voted in a minority of five against the asserted right of tax-
ing the American colonies. It is probable, however, that
he was not sorry to absent himself as much as he reasonably
and properly could from the House of Lords, that he might
not vote against the King. What was the precise charac-
ter ot his relations with Government it is impossible to »ay^

lO

LORD CORNWALUS, i770-]

But in the early part of 1770, when the Duke of Grafton
was Prime Minister, he was appointed to the lucrative office
of Vice-Treasurer of Ireland, the duties of which were per-
formed by deputy, and before the end of the year he was
made Constable of the Tower. There was something
strange and inexplicable in his position, which did not
escape remark 3 and the great anonymous .writer, whose
malignant vigilance nothing in high places could escape,
fell upon him with remorseless vigour.*

* What Junius, under the acknowledged signature of * Domitian,'
said of him was this : * My sincere compassion for Lord ComwalUs
arises not so much from his quality as from his time of life. A young
man by his spirited conduct may atone for the deficiencies of his un-
derstanding. Where was the memory of the noble Lord, and what
kind of intellect must he possess, when he resigns his place, yet con-
tinues in the support of the administration, makes a parade of attend-
ing Lord North's lev^e, and pays a public homage to the deputy of
Lord Bute ? Where is now his attachment, where are now his pro-
fessions to Lord Chatham, his zeal for the Whig interest of England,
and his detestation of Lord Bute, the Bedfords, and the Tories?
Since the time at which these were the only topics of his conversation,
I presume he has shifted his company as well as his opinions. Will
he tell the world to which of his uncles, or to what friend — to Phillip-
son or a Tory Lord— he owes the advice which has directed his con-
duct ? I will not press him further. The young man has taken a
wise resolution at last, for he is retiring into a voluntary banishment
in hopes of recovering the niin of his reputation.' ' This letter was
dated March 4, 1770, at which time Lord Comwallis was Irish Vice-
Treasurer. The place, therefore, which he is said to have resigned
must have been the Chief Justiceship in Eyre, which he had ceased
to hold in the preceding year. The reference can scarcely be to the
appointment in the Household, which he had resigned some four
years before. Mr Ross says that it is * impossible to explain ' the
letter of * Domitian,' as Lord Comwallis was present in the House
of Lords as frequently as in former years, and all his votes on Ameri-

I770— 76-] COMMAND IN AMERICA, ii

t '■

From the dose of the year 1770 to the dawn of 1776,
during which England drifted into the American war, there
is but little trace of the public career of Lord Cornwallis,
He continued to hold the oflfice of Constable of the Tower,
but in May, 1771, the Vice-Treasurership of Ireland passed
from him. He was very happy in his domestic life, and
his happiness was increased, in the course of the year 1774,
by the birth of a son. If he had followed only his own
tastes and inclinations at that time, he would have retired
altogether from public life ; for he was very little incited
by ambition, and there was not a taint of avarice in his na-
ture. But England was now on the eve of a great crisis,
and the King had need of the best energies of all his serv-
ants. It was not a good cause for which Cornwallis was
now again called upon to unsheath the sword; he had
publicly, indeed, proclaimed his antipathy to the measures
out of which had arisen the bitter strife which could now
be allayed only by the last arbitrement of arms. In such a
conjuncture there will, perhaps, always be some conflict of
opinion among honourable men with respect to the right
course of individual action. Lord Chatham, by temporarily
witlidrawing his own son from the King's army, demon-
stratively asserted the doctrine that no man ought to use
his sword in an unrighteous cause. But Lord Cornwallis
believed that it was his first duty, as a soldier, to obey the

can questions were * adverse to the well-known wishes of the King.'
It is suggested that ' absence from London on account of regimental
duties,' might have, to some extent, interfered with" regular attend-
ance in Parliament, but this could not have extended beyond March,
1766, vrhen Lord Cornwallis became a full Colonel.

la LORD COkNWALLIS. \tn^

orders of his King 5 and to render unto Caesar the things
that were Caesar's, at any sacrifice both of private judgment
and of private convenience. It was a sore trial to him, for
his wife importuned him not to go, and even, it is said, by
the help of a powerful relative, prevailed upon the King to
release him from his obligations. But he would not avail
himself of this permission to remain in England. He took
up the commission of Lieutenant-Greneral, which had been
bestowed upon him, and at the beginning of 1776 took
command of his division, which was under orders to em-
bark at Cork.

The arrangements for embarkation were defective.
There were unfortunate delays on shore 5 and then there
was a long and disastrous voyage, at a time when it was
beyond calculation important that the reinforcements should
arrive in time to co-operate with Clinton for the defence
of the loyalists in Carolina. Everything went wrong, and
continued to go wrong. It was altogether a hopeless case
even when first Lord Cornwallis arrived in America. A
few weeks afterwards the Declaration of Independence was
signed j and no efforts of the King's Government could
then crush out the liberties of the nation. Our soldiers
did their work, but as men oppressed and weighed down
by the badness of the cause. Neither skill nor gallantry
availed 5 nothing prospered with us 5 and there was not a
general officer in the service who did not long to be re-
lieved of his command, if he could honourably withdraw
fi-om the contest.

At that time Sir William Howe commanded the King's
troops in America. The successes which he obtained

I776.J IN AMERICA. 13

were more like defeats, for be never followed them up j
and opportunities were lost never to be recovered. It
seemed as tbough the English General had been sent out
for the express purpose of letting the enemy escape. He
never would cut them up himself, nor would he suffer the
ofHcers who served under him to be more prompt in their
movements and more vigorous in their acts. Once Com-
wallis had it within his power to inflict a blow upon
Washington's army, from which it could never have re-
covered. The rebel troops, encumbered with a heavy
train of artillery, were in panic flight before him, and he
had been strongly reinforced 3 but just as the enemy seemed
to be within his grasp, he received orders to halt at Bruni^
wick, and before he had permission to advance again, the
fugitives were beyond his reach.* This was in the earlier
part of December, 1776 5 but, before the end of the month,
Washington had sufficiently recovered to cross the Dela-
ware, to surprise the English posts at Delaware, to capture
our guns, to make prisoners of nearly all our men, and to
occupy the place with rebel troops. The English and the
Hessians had been keeping up Christmas somewhat freely,

* Sir William Howe, in his official account of this matter, says :
* In Jersey, upon the approach of the van of Lord ComwaUis*s corps
to Brunswick by a forced march on the 1st instant, the enemy went
off most precipitately to Prince-town ; and, had they not prevented
the passage of the Raritan, by breaking a part of the Brunswick
bridge, so great was the confusion among them, that their army must
inevitably have been cut to pieces. My first design extending no
further than to get and keep possession of East Jersey, Lord Com-
wallis had orders not to advance beyond Brunswick, which occasioned
him to discontinue his pursuit,' &c., &c. — Comwallis Correspond'
ence, Ross^

14 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1776.

and the American General found them in a helpless state
of drunkenness or sleep. Comwallis had by this time put
his troops into winter-quarters, and, believing that the opera-
tions of the season were at an end, was meditating a visit
to England, when news of the enemy's success reached him
at New York, and he at once abandoned his design. Start-
ing on New- Year's day from New York, he reached Prince-
town on the same evening, took command of the British
troops in Jersey, and advanced to give battle to the enemy.
Before nightfall on the 2nd he had reached Trenton. The
Americans evacuated the place, and bivouacked on the op-
posite bank of a creek which ran through the town. The
night was spent by the two Generals in reflections of a
very opposite character. Comwallis was thinking how
best to bring on a general action next morning, whilst
Washington, clearly seeing that the odds were greatly against
him, and victory hopeless, determined to escape under cover
of the night. He could not recross the Delaware, for a
thaw had set in, so doubled back towards Prince-town,
hoping to get into the rear of Cornwallis's army j but in
the thick fog of the January morning he had the mischance
to fall in with a body of British troops, who gave him bat-
tle, and, in spite of their inferiority of numbers, threw the
American battalions into confusion, and inflicted a severe
chastisement upon them. There were but two English
regiments, and neither was numerically strong 5 so the ad-
vantage gained at the outset was not followed up, and be-
fore Comwallis could proceed to their support, the enemy
'had made good their retreat, had crossed the Millstone
river, and destroyed the bridge in their rear. It is not ne-

1777-1 /^ AMERICA, 15

cessary to pursue the narrative. The winter was rendered
disastrous to the King's party by the activity of Washing-
ton and the paralysis which had faUen upon Howe. Com-
wallis received the especial thanks of his Sovereign ; but
he felt that there could not be a worse field of distinction
than that which lay before him in the American provinces.*
But the time had passed for him to proceed to Eng-
land during that winter j so the year 1777, almost to its
close, saw Lord Comwallis in the command of his di-
vision. Of the little that was done well during that year,
he did the greater part. Sir William Howe was an easy,
good-natured, popular man 3 but his qualities were rather
of a social than a military character, and excessive sloth
was the characteristic of the British army under his com-
mand. It was his habit to move too late and to halt too
early for any useful purpose. The military annalists are
continually reciting the successes which were within the
reach of the British troops, but which were always aban-
doned just at the point of attainment. It is admitted, how-
ever, that Lord Cornwallis was more prompt and rapid in
his movements than the other British Generals, and it ap-
pears that when there was real work to be done he was
ever the man to be sent to the front. He did the work
well, too — as far as he was permitted to do it. One in-
stance will suffice to show the quality of the General. In

* I read with much pleasure your commendation of Lord Com-
wallis's services during the campaign, and I am to acquaint you that
the King very much applauds the ability and conduct which his Lord-
ship displayed, &c., &c. — Lord George Germain to Sir W. Howe,
March 3, 1777. — Comwallis Correspondence,

i6 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1777—88.

the burning month of June, it seemed to the English Com-
mander that circumstances were favourable for an attack
on Washington's force ; and Comwallis was sent forward,
in command of the van of the British army, to give him
battle. He had not marched far before he fell in with the
leading columns of the American army. No orders were
now needed from higher authority, so Cornwallis flung
himself upon the enemy with so much impetuosity that
they staggered at the first onset, and were soon in a state
of inextricable confusion. Leaving behind them their guns
and their killed and wouf*«W, they fled in disorder from
the field.

But the winter came round again, and Cornwallis, dis-
appointed in the preceding year, was now eager to return
to England. Sir William Howe sent him home with a
commission to communicate with the King's Government
regarding the general history and conduct of the war. On
the 1 8th of January, 1788, he disembarked from the
Brilliant, and hastened to embrace his wife and children.
The joy of meeting even then was clouded by the thought
of the coming separation. Brief was the time of absence
allowed to him, and there was much in that little time to
be done. The months of February and March and the
earlier weeks of April passed rapidly away in the trans-
action of business with tLe King's Ministers, in attendance
at the House of Lords, and in sweet communion with his
family. The prospect before him was not cheering. His
sentiments were unchanged. He had heard with reveren-
tial sorrow the dying voice of Chatham lifted up in a last
despairing effort to save his unhappy country from an ig-

4778.] 1>BA TH OF LAD Y CORNWALUS. Vf

Qominious peace; but he did not the less deprecate the
causes of the war, or disapprove of the manner in which it
was conducted. He had seen everything going wrong,
when there was only an undisciplined militia to be coerced
by the best troops of the King, and now France was lend-
ing her aid to the cause of American Independence. It
was true that Greneral Howe, who had done so much to
favour the triumph of the rebels, was about to resign the
command of the King*s forces in America. But the
GeneraFs place was to be filled by one whom he did not
like so wbll as a man, and whom he did not trust much
more as a commander.. So he went to the place of em-
barkation, at the end of the third week of April, in a state
of sore depression of spirit, with nothing but the one abid-
ing sense of his duty as a soldier to sustain him.

His wife and children accompanied him to Portsmouth.
The parting was very painful, and Lady Cornwallis went
back to Culford utterly weighed down by the burden of
her grief. She had lived in strict retirement during the
first absence of her lord, and now she relapsed into her old
solitary ways, grieving and pining as one without hope,
until her health gave way beneath the unceasing weight of
her sorrow, and she said that she was dying of a broken
heart. In this piteous state, a strange fancy seized her.
She desired that a thom^tree might be planted over her
grave in the family vault at Culford, just above the spot
where her poor broken heart would be laid, thus emblem-
atizing the fate of one whom the ' pricking briars and
grieving thorns ' had torn and pierced in the tenderest parts

VOL. I, 2

i« LORD CORNWALLIS. [1^78,

of her humanity. This was to be her epitaph. Not a
word was to be graven on her torab.

In the mean while Lord Cornwallis had rejoined the
King's army in America. He found that Sir Henry Chn-
ton was on the point of evacuating Philadelphia, and that
there was small chance of his ever being able to co-operate
harmoniously with his chief. He was now second in com-
mand, and he held a dormant commission to succeed, in
the event of Clinton's death or retirement, to the chief
command of all the* forces. It is not very clear what was
the main cause of that disagreement, which in time ripened
into a bitter feud between the two (renerals j but Corn-
wallis had been only a very few weeks in America when
his position was so unbearable that he wrote to the Secret-
ary of State, begging him to lay a humble request before
his Majesty that he might be permitted to return to Eng-
land. The request was not granted. His services could
not -be dispensed with at such a time ; so he went on his
work. But the official answer of the King's Government
had scarcely been received, when tidings reached Cornwallis
that his wife was dying. The year was then far spent, and
the army was going into winter-quarters; so he determined
to resign his command, and to set his face ^again towards
England. The necessary permission was obtained from
Clinton 5 * and, in a state of extreme anxiety and depres-

• Clinton put tHe best gloss upon the matter that he could. * The
Army being now in winter-quarters,' he wrote to the Secretary of
State, * and the defences of the different posts assigned, I have con-
sented that Lieutenant- General Earl Cornwallis should return to
England, where his knowledge of the country and our circumstances

1779-1 DEATH OF LADY CORNWALUS, 19

«ion, Comwallis put himself on board ship. In the middle
of the month of December he reached Culford. His wife
was stiU alive j but all hope of her recovery had gone. It
was now too late even for his presence to save. She sur-
vived her husband's return for two months, 'and then passed
away to her rest.*

Then a great change descended upon the character, and
influenced all the after-career of Lord Cornwallis. It is
not to be doubted that the bent of his natural affections
was towards a quiet domestic life, and it is probable that,
if this great calamity had not fallen upon him, he would
have endeavoured to detach himself from the public service.
But all now was changed. That which had been a burden
became a relief to him. He turned to the excitements of
active life to fill the void that was left in his heart and to
appease its cravings. After a brief interval of mourn-
ful retirement, he looked the world again in the face, and
tendered his services to the King for re-employment in
America.

The offer was eagerly accepted, and again Lord Corn-
wallis was appointed second in command and provisional

may during this season be as serviceable as I have found his experi-
ence and activity during the campaign.'

* Lady Comwallis died on the i6th of February, 1779. The
morbid fancy which she had expressed to be buried with a thorn-tree
planted over her heart was complied with, and no name was engraved
on the slab which marked the place in the vault at Culford where hei
remains were interred. Mr Ross adds, that * the thorn-tree was
necessarily removed in March, 1855, in consequence of alterations in
the church : it was carefully replanted in the churchyard, but did not
live more than three years afterwards.* — Comwallis Correspondence,
Ross,

ao LORD CORNWALLIS. [vr^-^^

Commander-in-Chief in America. He was now forty years
of age, in the very vigour of his manhood j and if he was
not stirred by any strong impulses of ambition, there was
not one of the King*s servants who was sustained by a
higher and more enduring sense of duty. Duty, indeed,
was now everything to Cornwallis. The wreck of his
domestic happiness had endeared his work to him, and that
which had before been submission to a hard necessity, now
became, in the changed circumstances of his life, a welcome
relief from the pressure of a great sorrow. Perhaps even
certain painful peculiarities in his situation were not with-
out their uses in distracting his mind, and breaking in upon
the monotony of his distress.

How it happened I cannot very distinctly explain, but
the King's Ministers had assuredly placed him in a position
which rendered a conflict with Sir Henry Clinton sooner
or later inevitable. As second in command, with a pro-
visional commission to succeed to the chiefship of the army,
it was not easy altogether to keep clear of jealousies and
rivalries J but as the King's Government had authorized
him to correspond directly with them, as though he held
altogether an independent command, there was a vagueness
about the limits of authority, which was sure to create per-
plexity and to excite antagonism between the two Generals.
It is probable that Clinton foresaw this, for he asked per-
mission to resign. If there were, however, any bitterness
of feeling in his mind he veiled it with becoming courtesy.
* I must beg leave,* he wrote to Lord George Grermain, ' to
express how happy I am made by the return of Lord
Cornwallis to this country. His Lordship's indefatigable

i7«o.J RUPTURE WITH CUNTON, si

seal^ his knowledge- of the country, his professional ability^
and the high estimation in wluch he is held by this army,
must naturally give me the warmest confidence of efficaci-
ous support from him in every undertaking which oppor-
tunity may prompt, and our circumstances allow. But his
presence affords to me another source of satisfaction. When
there is upon the spot an officer every way so well
qualified to have the interests of the country intrusted to
him, I should hope I might without difficulty be removed
from a station which nobody acquainted with its conditions
wiU suppose to have sat lightly upon me.* His resignation
was not accepted ; and the two Generals were lefl, to be
drifted, by the first tide of hostile circumstances, into deadly
collision.

But at no time did Lord Comwallis dispute the superior
authority of Sir Henry Clinton, or fail publicly to recog-
nize that officer as his chief. He had not long returned
to America, when, having heard that Clinton proposed to
carry Charleston by assault, he offered his services to him,
and sought permission to accompany the stormers. ' If you
find,* he wrote, * that the enemy are obstinately bent on
standing a siege, I shall take it as a favour if you will let
me be of the party. I can be with you in eight hours
from your sending to me. I should be happy to attend my
old friends, the Grenadiers and Light Infantry, and perhaps
you may think that on an occasion of that sort you cannot
have too many officers. I can only say that, unless you
Bee any inconvenience to the service, it is my hearty wish
to attend you on that occasion. As it may not be proper
to commit to writing, if you should approve of it, your

29 LOkD COkNWALLtS. [17*^

saying " Your Lordship will take a ride at such an hour **
will be sufficient.' It may be doubted whether it was the
duty of Lord Comwallis, holding such a commission as he
held, to volunteer for a storming party j but it is very diffi-
cult to blame a soldier who thus for a time forgets his rank,
and sinks the officer in the soldier.

But Charieston was not carried by assault 5 and there
was General's, not Subaltern's, work to be done by Corn-
wallis. On the 12th of May, the. American General,
Lincoln, surrendered 5 and early in the following month
Clinton moved to the northward, whilst Comwallis took
tlie command in South Carolina, with his head-quarters
at Charleston. Whilst he was debating in his mind the
course of future operations, news came that a strong body
of the enemy, under General Gates, were advancing to
attack the British troops posted at Camden 3 so he hastened
to join the army, and placed himself at its head. It was
plain that the Americans were in far greater force, but he
at once resolved to give them battle. On the morning of
the 1 6th of August, Comwallis and Gates found themselves
within reach of each other. The English General com-
menced the attack, and, after a sharp conflict, totally
defeated the enemy, and took their guns, ammunition, and
haggage. * In short,' wrote the English Greneral, * there
never was a more complete victory.' But victories, in those
days, however complete, did not lead to much. After the
battle of Camden, Comwallis determined to execute the
design, which he had previously formed, of advancing into
North Carolina. But he had not proceeded farther than
Charlotte-town, when he found that the situation of affair^

I78a] WINTERS AT WYNNESBOROUGH. 23

was such as to preclude all hope of the success of offensive
operations. There was a scarcity of carriage ; there was a
scarcity of stores 5 and worse than all, there was such a
scarcity of active loyalty in North Carolina, that even the
most sanguine of generals could have seen but little bright-
ness in the prospect before him. The militia of so-called
* loyalists,* raised in America, were not to be Jrusted. They
were as likely as not to forsake the standard of King
George in a critical moment, and go over bodily to his
enemies. The people who would have remained true to
the parent State were disheartened by the want of vigour
with which the war had been prosecuted by the King's
Government, and found that there was no safety for them ex-
cept in adhesion to the * rebel * cause. Whilst things were in
this state, a serious disaster occurred to a detachment of
loyalists under Major Ferguson, which dispelled all doubt
upon the subject of the comparative strength of tlie two
parties in North Carolina j so, as it was now the month of
October, Cornwallis determined to take up a defensive
position, and to place his army in winter-quarters. He had
himself fallen sick 5 a severe fever had seized him 5 and he
was incapacitated for a while for service in the field.

During the winter months. Lord Cornwallis remained
inactive, with his forces, at Wynnesborough 5 but the ad-
vance into North Carolina had been deferred, not aban-
doned, and his mind was busy with the thought of the
coming campaign. The new year found him with restored
health and renewed eagerness for action. It was scarcely,
indeed, a week old, when he wrote to Sir Henry Clinton
that he was ready to begin his march. But the new cam-

LORD CORNWALLIS, [i7«f.

paign rose, as the old had set, in a cloud of disaster. A
force of all arms, sent forward under Colonel Tarleton ' to
strike a blow at General Morgan/ received itself such a
blow from the American, that it reeled and staggered, and
was so sore-stricken that it never recovered again. At
the first onset the enemy^s line gave way, and retired ; but
when the King*s troops were in pursuit, the * rebels * faced
about, and delivered such a sharp fire that both our In-
fantry and our Cavalry were thrown into confusion, and were
soon in a state of panic flight. The Artillery, after the
fashion of that branch of the service, stood to their guns^
and surrendered them only with their lives.

This disaster at Cowpens was as serious as it was unex-
pected J and, although it incited Cornwallis to redouble his
exertions, he never wholly recovered from its effects. When
the news reached him, he pushed forward with all possible
despatch, hoping to overtake Morgan j but the American
General had a clear start, and was not to be caught. So
Cornwallis planted the King*s standard at Hillsborough |
but, forage and provisions being scarce in the neighbour-
hood, he crossed the Haw River about the end of February,
and posted himself at AUemanse Creek. There, at the
beginning of March, he gained tidings of the movements
of the enemy under General Greene, and was eager to
give them battle. On the 14th, the welcome news came
that the enemy had advanced to Guildford, some twelve
miles from the British camp. The following morning saw
the army under Cornwallis pushing forward to meet the
American forces, or to attack them in their encampments.
They were soon in sight of each other. An hour after

iTfix.] THE BATTLE OF GUILDFORD, as

noon the action commenced. The countr}% bounded by
extensive woods, was unfavourable to open fighting, and
afforded little scope for any complicated generalship. But
the simple dispositions of Cornwallis were admirable, and
the English troops, among which, conspicuous for their
gallantry, were the Guards, covered themselves with glory.
They were greatly outmatched in numbers.* The Ameri-
can Greneral had chosen his ground, had disencumbered
himself of his baggage, and had ample time to concert his
plans before the English had come within reach of his guns.
In short, everything was against the English Commandei',
But his own coolness and confidence in the face of these
heavy odds, and the unflinching courage of his men, made
inferiority of numbers and disadvantages of position matters
only of small account. Throughout the long series of
military operations which preceded the disruption of the
American colonies from the parent State, no battle was
better fought by the English, no victory was more triumph-
antly accomplished, than that which crowned this action
at Guildford. The Americans, disastrously beaten at all
points, fled from the field of battle, and when, at a distance
of eighteen miles from the scene, Greene was able to rally
his disordered troops, he found that he had few except his
Regulars with him. The American historians admit that
this was a signal illustration of the steadfastness and courage
of the English troops when effectively commanded j whilst

• In a letter to General Phillips, given in Mr Ross's work. Lord
Cornwallis says that the enemy were * seven times his number.' But
his 'present state,' on the morning of March 15, shows that he had
nearly two thousand men, and the enemy had about seven thousand.

b6 L6Rb CdRMWAlLtS, ti7dx.

the English annalists of the war rekte that nothing grander
was seen at Crecy, Poictiers, or Agincourt.* In this action
Comwallis was wounded j but he would not suffer his
name to appear in the list of casualties.

But it was one of the sad and sickening circumstances
of this unhappy war, that when the King's troops gained a
victory — and they were victorious in well-nigh every
pitched battle — they could never turn it to account. In
effect, it was commonly more like a defeat. Regarding it
solely in its military aspects, no success could have been
more complete than that which crowned the day's hardi
fighting at Guildford ^ but it hurt the British more than
the Americans. So shattered and sore-spent was Corn-
wallis's little army after that unequal contest, that to follow
up the victory was impossible 5 nay, to fall back and refit
was necessary. There was no forage in the neighbourhood}
there was no shelter. The troops were without provisions,
and the people in the vicinity were afi-aid to supply them.
Having done the best he could, therefore, for his wounded,

* Stedman, after describing in glowing terms the victory of
Guildford, says ; * History, perhaps, does not fiimish an instance of
a battle gained under all the disadvantages which the British troops,
assisted by a regiment of Hessians and some Yagers, had to contend
against at Guildford Court House. Nor is there, perhaps, in the
records of history, an instance of a battle fought with more deter-
mined perseverance than was shown by the British troops on that
memorable day. The battles of Crecy, of Poictiers, and of Agin-
court — the glory of our own country and the admiration of ages — ^had
in each of them, either from particular local situation or other for-
tunate and favourable circumstances, something in a degree to
coimterbalance the superiority of numbers ; here, time, place^ and
numbers, all united against the British.'

I7«i.] TtiB VlkGtN!A^ CAAiPAMN, tf

- ' ■ - -

which Was but little, he determlhed to fall back to a more
desirable resting-place. Three days after the battle he
marched out from Guildford. But he could find no con-
venient halting-place nearer than Wilmington ; so there he
planted his army on the 7 th of April, and in no very san-
guine mood began to meditate the future of the war.

The prospects before him were anything but cheering.
If it were true in this instance that those who were not
with him were against him, nearly the whole of the popu-
lation of the American colonies was now arrayed against
King Greorge. There was but little loyalty left in thfe
country, and that little was afraid to betray itself. The
colonists who would have supported the King's cause by
passive submission, if not by active assistance, were weary
of waiting for the deliverance they expected ; and as his
enemies were waxing stronger and stronger every day, and
with increased strength gathering increased bitterness, it
had become absolute ruin to be on the King's side. But,
hopeless as was the issue, the King's Generals were con-
strained to continue the war as best they could 5 and to
Cornwallis it seemed best to carry it into Virginia. ' If,'
he wrote to Lord George G«rmaine, ' it should appear to
be the interest of Great Britain to maintain what she
already possesses, and to push the war in the Southern
Provinces, I take the liberty of giving it as my opinion that
a serious attempt on Virginia would be the most solid plan,
because successful operations might not only be attended
with important consequences there, but would tend to the
security of South Carolina, and ultimately to the submis-
•ion of North Carolina.' And there were immediate

s8 LORD CORNWALLIS. [1781.

const derations which rendered it expedient that he should
put his plans into execution without any loss of time.
' My situation here is very distressing,* he wrote from Wil-
mington to his friend Greneral Phillips, on the 24th of ApriL
' Greene took the advantage of my being obliged to come
to this place, and has marched to South Carolina. My
expresses to Lord Rawdon on my leaving Cross Creek,
warning him of the possibility of such a movement, have
all failed $ mountaineers and militia have poured into the
back part of that province, and I much fear that Lord
Rawdon*s posts will be so distant from each other, and his
troops so scattered, as to put him into the greatest danger
of being beat in detail, and that the worst consequences
may happen to most of the troops out of Charles-town.
By a direct move towards Camden, I cannot get time
enough to relieve Lord Rawdon; and, should he have
fallen, my arn^y would be exposed to the utmost danger,
from the great rivers I should have to pass, the exhausted
state of the country, the numerous militia, the almost
universal spirit of revolt which prevails in South Carolina,
and the strength of Greene*s army, whose continentals
alone are at least as numerous as I am ; and I could be of
no use on my arrival at Charles-town, there being nothing
to apprehend at present for that post. I shall, therefore,
immediately march up the country by Duplin Court House,
pointing towards Hillsborough, in hopes to withdraw
Greene. If that should not succeed, I should be much
tempted to try to form a junction with you.'* On the

• This letter is printed at length in the Appendix to Lord Com-
wallis*B * Reply to Sir Henry Clinton's Narrative,* published in 1783.

I78x.] THE VIRGINIAN CAMPAIGN.

following day he marched from Wilmington 5 but at that
very time Lord Rafwdon was in hot conflict with Gh-eene
at Hobkirk's Hill. The English troops, according to their
wont, were victorious in action j but they could make
nothing of their victory, and the enemy, though beaten,
escaped.

The ground, however, was clear for Comwallis's
advance, and, during the space of three or four weeks, he
marched uninterruptedly right through North Carolina
into the Virginian provinces. He had spoken of the
attempt, in the letter above quoted, to form a junction
with Phillips only as a contingency, but he appears in
reality to have determined upon it j and on the 20th of
May he was at Petersburg. He arrived with a heavy heart;
for, as he entered Virginia, he learned that his friend,
whom he was advancing to relieve, and on whose co-
operation he had relied, was lying cold in his grave.
It was, indeed, a heavy loss both to himself and to
his country, and it cast a cloud over the prospects of the
campaign. He had at no time been very hopeful of the
issue J but he saw that the only thing to be done was to
carry the war into Virginia, and so he proceeded at once
to map out his operations. 'I shall now proceed,' he
wrote to Clinton on the 26th of May, 'to dislodge La
IS'ayette from Richmond, and with my light troops, to
destroy any magazines or stores in the neighbourhood
which may have been collected either for his use or
General Grreene*s army. From thence I purpose to move
to the neck at Williamsburg, which is represented as
healthy, and where some subsistence may be procured* and

90 LORJ> CORNWALLIS. \vfi\.

keep myse'f unengaged from operations which might
mterfere with your plan for the campaign until I have the
satisfaction of hearing from you. I hope I shall then have
an opportunity to receive better information than has been
in my power to procure relative to a proper harbour and
place of arms. At present, I am inclined to think well of
York.'* He had already, indeed, commenced his march,
and was pressing on towards Richmond when he wrote.
Once he contrived to draw La Fayette into battle, and
gave him so warm a reception, that if night had not fallen
on the conflict, he might have taken the Frenchman's
whole corps. But from this time the tide of fortune turned,
darkly and sadly, against the English Commanders. The
eventual success of the King's troops had long become
hopeless. All the seeds of a great failure were in the very
nature of the business itself, and it needed but one adventi-
tious circumstance to develop them speedily into a great
harvest of disaster. Small chance is there that a military
expedition should prosper at any time, when the leaders
are divided against themselves. There was need, at this
time, for the most perfect unity of action. But Comwallis
and Clinton were operating, in different parts of the coun-
try, without any common plan of action. The communi-
cations between the two forces were extremely defective,

* The truth is, that not feeling certain that he would succeed,
he was unwilling to raise expectations in Phillips's mind which might
not be realized by the result ; but he wrote at the same time to the
King's Government that he had 'resolved to take advantage of
General Greene's having left the back part of Virginia open, and
march immediately into that province to attempt a junction with
Genml PhiUips.'

itSi.] the VIRGINIAN CAMPAIGN 31

and it is doubtful whether the Generals cared to improve
them. It was for years afterwards a subject of vehement
controversial discussion whether Clinton had or not ap-
proved of the expedition into Virginia at all. Irritated,
and perhaps not without reason, by the permission given to
Cornwallis to correspond directly with the King's Govern-
ment, the Commander-in-Chief said sneeringly that he did
not know but that his Lordship had received his orders
from the Secretary of State j and ComwaUis declared that
the style of Clinton's letters to him was so offensive, that
he would have thrown up his command in disgust, had the
circumstances of the war at that time been of a less critical
character. It is not necessary to pursue the stor}' of these
dissensions. It is enough that whilst the power of the
English -^as rapidly crumbling away, the Americans were
gathering fresh strength for the contest. Large reinforce-
ments were coming in from France j and the military
genius of the colonists was in course of rapid development.
It was plain that the Allies were meditating a grand attack
upon the English forces 5 but so imperfect was our know-
ledge of their movements and their designs, that it was
micertain whether the great descent would be made on
Clinton's position at New York or on Comwallis's on the
York River. So each Greneral was eager to be reinforced
by the other, and the energies of the British troops were
wasted in embarkations and disembarkations and fruitless
preparations for contingencies that never occurred.

All idea of offensive operations in Virginia had now
been abandoned. Cornwallis had posted his troops at
York and Gloucester, two small towns or villages on oppo*

3d LORD CORNWALLtS, [1781.

site banks of the York River, and there he began at once to
throw. up defensive works. On the 22nd of August he
wrote to Clinton, saying that * his experience of the fatigue
and difficulty of constructing works in that warm season,
convinced him that all the labour that the troops there
would be capable of without ruining their health would be
required for at least six weeks to put the intended works at
this place in a tolerable state of defence.* And as time
advanced, and the works proceeded, it was manifest that
he would have need of all the defensive power that he
could create j for in the early autumn it became certain
thai Washington was about to concentrate all his energies
upon a decisive attack on Comwallis's position. In truth,
he was now in imminent danger — and all that he could do
was to work and to wait. 'While fleets and armies/
writes one of the historians of the war — ' Frenchmen from
Rhode Island and the West Indies, and Americans from
North, South, East, and West — ^were gathering round him.
Lord Cornwallis continued to fortify his positions as well as
he could, and to indulge in the hope that Sir Henry Clinton
would be enabled, by means of the arrival of Admiral
Digby, to co-operate with him, and to bring round to the
Chesapeake such a force of men and ships as would turn
the scale entirely in favour of the British.* He was now,
indeed, in the toils of the enemy, who were closing around
him, and the success so eagerly looked for still seemed to
be far off. If in that conjuncture he had wholly desponded^
he would, as his own natural inclinations prompted him,
have gone out to try conclusions with the enemy, and, in
his despair, risked everything upon the gambler*s throw ;

itSi.] the surrender of YORK TOWN 33

but he still hoped that the promised relief would come, so
he continued to stand upon the defensive.

What follows is a well-known passage in English
history. As the autumn advanced,, the French and
American armies, strong in numbers, strong in all the
equipments of war, with the best skill of European artillery-
men and engineers, continued to close around Cornwallis's
lines 5 and at the end of September they commenced the
attack. York Town was but a poor village, and the King's
troops had not been able so to strengthen their defences as
to enable them to stand a regular siege. In this emergency
the only substantial hope of success lay in the arrival of
succours from Clinton's force. The tactics of the enemy,
which had before been doubtful, were now fully developed
beyond all questioning, and there was no longer any doubt
respecting the point on which all the strength of the British
should be concentrated. But the reinforcements, which
might have saved him, did not come. Day after day,
Cornwallis waited eagerly for tidings of the coming help
that might turn a disastrous failure into a glorious success.
Clinton had written to say that he was sending five thousand
men to his relief. But the troop-ships from New York did
not make their longed-for appearance in the Chesapeake,
and, in the mean while, the heavy ordnance of the enemy
was telling with mighty effect upon the British works.
The courage and constancy of the besieged were of the
highest order, and Cornwallis was not a man to be inactive if
anything could be done by fighting. But never since the
world began has there been so pitiftd a record of wasted
bravery as that which lies before us in the annals of our cam-

VOL. I. 3

34 LORD CORNWALUS, [1781.

paigns in America. When our people made a gallant
sortie upon the destroying batteries of the enemy, and
spiked their guns, complete as was the first success of the
brave exploit, it was as profitless as all our other successes.
The guns were soon made serviceable again, and our position
was more sorely pressed than before. Then Cornwallis
saw clearly that there was no longer any hope of a suc-
cessful issue to his defensive operations. The month of
October was fast wearing away, and there was no appear-
ance of the promised succours. There were only two ways
of saving the army under his command. One was by sur-
render, against which Kis soul revolted, and the other was
by cutting his way through the enemy 5 and this, hazard-
ous as it was, had far greater attractions tor him. So he
resolved, under the cover of the night, to embark his
troops, to cross the river, and to force his way through the
enemy's lines on the opposite bank. It was a resolution
worthy of a brave man 5 but Providence forbade its suc-
cessfiil issue. The attempt was made, but it failed. A
violent storm arose, and bafiled the enterprise midway
towards completion. The boats which had crossed the
river with a portion of the force could not be sent back to
bring over the remainder, and before the wind had moder-
ated the favouring darkness had passed. All that Corn-
wallis could then do was to withdraw the regiments that
had passed over from their perilous position on the op-
posite bank of the river, and to seek safety behind the
lines of York Town.

But there was no longer any safety to be found there.
The works were crumbling to pieces. The ammunition

X78i.] THE SURRENDER OF YORK TOWN, 35

Id store was well-nigh exhausted. Sickness had broken out
among the troops^ and there was barely enough effective
strength in garrison to man the lines. The longed-for suc-
cours were now past hoping for j and the last throw of de-
spairing heroism had failed. In this extremity^ on the i8th
of October Comwallis called a coimcil of his chief officers
and engineers \ but no man could speak words of comfort
to him, or fortify him with assurances that there were any
means of resisting the assaults of the enemy, which were
then hourly expected. ' Under all these circumstances, I
thought,* he wrote afterwards to Sir Henry Clinton, ' it
would have been wanton and inhuman to the last degree
to sacrifice the lives of this small body of gallant soldiers,
who had ever behaved with so much fidelity and courage,
by exposing them to an assault which, from the numbers
and precautions of the enemy, could not fail to succeed. I
therefore proposed to capitulate.*

A letter was, therefore, addressed to Washington, who
answered that, ardently desirous to spare the further effusion
of blood, he would willingly discuss such terms of surrender
as he might consider admissible. The terms agreed upon
were that the British garrison should march out of York
Town ^with shouldered arms, colours cased, and drums
beating* — the cavalry with swords drawn and trumpets
sounding — and that then they were to ground their arms,
and to become prisoners of war. The officers, however,
were to be allowed to retain their side-arms.* In effect,
this humiliating reverse brought the war in America to a

* There were several other subsidiary articles, but it is necessary
.only to recite the above.

36 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1781.

close, though it was feebly maintained for a space of more
than another year. Comwallis had attempted to negotiate
terms, permitting the officers and men under him to leave
America for England or Germany on parole. To this
Washington would not accede, and so the prisoners of war
were to remain on the scene of the disaster, under the
supervision of the allies. The French in this conjuncture
behaved with a generosity that it is pleasant to record.
' The treatment in general,* wrote Cornwallis, a few day^
after his surrender, * that we have received from the enemy
has been perfectly good and proper j but the kindness and
attention that have been shown to us by the French officers
in particular — their delicate sensibility of our situation —
their generous and pressing offers of money, both pubHc
and private, to any amount — has really gone beyond what
I can possibly describe, and will, I hope, make an impression
on the breast of every British officer, whenever the fortune
of war should put any of them into our power.* Good
words, and worthy to be remembered 5 a generous recogni-
tion of conduct right generous in an enemy, becoming the
chivalry of the two foremost nations of the world.

But Cornwallis was not doomed to remain long a cap-
tive in America. It happened that one of the commissioners
appointed by Washington to negotiate the terms of capitu-
lation was Colonel John Laurens, whose father, Henry
Laurens, President of Congress, had been captured by the
English, and was then a prisoner in our hands. Nay, more
— having been committed to the Tower, he was nominally
in the custody of Lord Cornwallis, who still retained the
office of Constable. So it was thought that an exchange

1782.] RETURN TO ENGLAND, 37

of these two illustrious prisoners might be eiFected. Corn-
wallis, therefore, was allowed to leave America on his
parole. He arrived in England a few days after the dawn
of the new year. But the negotiation of the exchange
was a long and weary business, and dragged painfully all
through the year. The Americans denied that they had
promised to release Comwallis in exchange for Laurens,
and having taken another English Greneral,* who might be
exchanged for their countryman, thought it would be well
to continue the parole of the first, and at one time threat-
ened to recall him to America. All this disquieted him
greatly. There was at the same time, too, another source
of trouble. Sir Henry Clinton had returned to England,
and had commenced a war of pamphlets, in which Com-
wallis felt himself obliged to take part in self-defence.
The main question so acrimoniously discussed was whether
Clinton had, or had not, sanctioned the operations in Vir-
ginia which were brought to so disastrous a close. A large
mass of correspondence was produced by both disputants in
support of their several assertions, with the result that
generally attends paper-warfare of this kind. Neither party
was convinced by the other 5 public opinion was divided j
and the question remained at the end of the controversy in
the same state as when it was commenced.

But the discussion came to an end without a duel, and
at last Cornwallis was released from his parole. He then
became eager for re-employment in the line of his profess-
ion. He had little taste for party politics, and his position
was not a pleasant one, for the most cherished of his per-

♦ General Burgoyne.

38 LORD CORNWALLIS. [1783—84.

sonal friends, and those with whose sentiments he most
sympathized, were in Opposition 3* and as he held an ap-
pointment under Grovemment,t he considered it his duty to
take a decided course, and to place his office at the disposal
of the Crown. The King had at first declined to accept his
resignation 3 but, in the beginning of 1784, Comwallis felt
that he could no longer hold the office with honour. * You
will agree with me,* he wrote to his friend Colonel Ross, in
January, ' that in the present state of parties in this coun-
try it was impossible for me to hold it long without becom-
ing contemptible to all sides, and that, perhaps, I had
already held it too long 5 indeed, I am convinced that I
ought to have resigned on the coming in of the CoaHtion.*}
He had now fully made up his mind, and although, as he
said, he should * lose a much greater part of his income
than he could afford,* he resigned the Constableship, and
Lord Greorge Lennox was appointed to succeed him. But
the King had not many good soldiers in those days 5 and
Comwallis was not a man to be shelved. If no great suc-
cess had attended his operations in America, it was gen-
erally conceived that he had done better than any one else.
He was a brave soldier, arid, when opportunity offered, he
had proved himself to be a good general. But, above all,
he was a man of true nobility of nature, and thoroughly to

♦ Lord Shelbume, whom he always regarded as his political
leader, was Prime Minister from July, 1782, to April, 1783, when his
ministry was overthrown.

t The office of Constable of the Tower was then a civil office.

t This was the coalition between North and Fox, which drove
Lord Shelbume from office, and afterwards, in the face of much regal
reluctance, was permitted to form a Cabinet

i783-«4-] PROPOSAL FOR GOING TO INDIA. 39

be trusted. The King's Government, indeed, had unabated
contidence in him, though the ' fortune of war * had been
adverse, and were anxious again to re-employ him on some
service of responsibility, and sounded him as to his willing-
ness to go to India. Lord Shelbume had been the first
to enter into friendly communication with him on the
subject 5 but whilst he was on his parole, Comwallis would
not suffer himself even to think of employment abroad. It
was not, however, the partiality of a friend that dictated
this proposal. When Shelbume was driven from office and
the Coalition were in power. Lord North * and Mr Fox
seemed to be equally anxious to secure the services of Com-
wallis. Fox, indeed, though in no wise his friend, private
or political, paid him the highest possible tribute in the
course of his speech on the India Bill.f But there was a

♦ * Lord Hinchinbrook,* wrote Lord ComwaUis to Mr Ross, Oct.
26, 1783, * whom I saw when I was at Eton, told me that the King
said to him that Lord North had asked whether I would go to India.
He answered that he supposed I would, if it was proposed to me to
go in a proper situation. As, however," I have heard nothing from
Lord North, with whom I have such easy communication, I conclude
that nothing is seriously meant. As the time of year for talking on
the terrace was over, I could not conveniently see his Majesty.* —
Comwallis Correspondence, Ross,

+ * A learned gentleman <Mr Dundas) last year proposed to give
the most extraordinary powers to the Governor-General ; he at the
same time named the person who was to fill the office. The person
was Earl Comwallis, whom he (Mr Fox) named only for the purpose
of paying homage to his high character. The name of such a man
might make Parliament consent to the vesting of such powers in a
Governor-General ; but certain he was that nothing but the great
character of that noble Lord could ever induce the Legislature to
conmiit such powers to an individual at the distance of half the globe.*

40 LORD CORNWALLIS. [1783-^-

change of Ministry, followed by a general election 5 and
the reins of empire were now securely in the hands of Mr
Pitt. The new year found Cornwallis manifestly reluctant
to take service in India. ' Should any proposals be here-
after made to me relative to India/ he had written to Col-
onel Ross in December, * I do not feel at all inclined to
listen to them. I am handsomely off, and in the present
fluctuating state of affairs at home, with violent animosities
about India, I can see no prospect of any good. I am
aware that present ease may have some weight, but it re-
quires great resolution to engage a second time in a plan of
certain misery for the rest of my life without more substan-
tial encouragements.* The change of Ministry rendered it
certain that the offer would be renewed 5 and as soon as the
abatement of popular excitement at home allowed Mr Pitt
and his friends to give a thought to the remote dependency
of India, they began to sound him as to his willingness to
turn his face towards the East Indies.

It appears to have been, at this time, in contemplation
to invite Lord Cornwallis to assume the chief command of
the army in that country. But the idea was not an attract-
ive one to him. * The more I turn it in my mihd,* he
said, ' the less inclination I feel to undertake it. I see no
field for extraordinary military reputation, and it appears to
me, in every light, dangerous to the greatest degree. To
abandon my children and every comfort on this side the
grave 3 to quarrel with the Supreme Government in India^
whatever it might be 5 to find that I have neither power to
model the army or correct abuses ^ and, finally, to run the

1784.] OFFER OF THE GOVERNOR-GENERALSHIP. 41

risk of being beat by some Nabob, and being disgraced to
all eternity, which from what I have read of these battles
appears to be a very probable thing to happen — I cannot see,
in opposition to this, great renown and brilliant fortune.'
But when his sentiments were known, the King's Govern-
ment, as represented by William Pitt, was willing to place
both the civil and the military power in his hands. This
changed the complexion of affairs — ^because it now appeared
to him that there were prospects of more extensive useful-
ness in India. ' My mind is much agitated,* he wrote short-
ly afterwards to Colonel Ross. ' I can come to no resolu-
tion till I know the plan ; yet inclination cries out every
moment, *' Do not think of it 5 reject all offers 5 why should
you volunteer plague and misery ? '* Duty then whispers,
" You are not sent here merely to please yourself 5 the wis-
dom of Providence has thought fit to put an insuperable bar
to any great degree of happiness 5 can you tell, if you stay
at home, that the loss of your son, or some heavy calamity,
may not plunge you in the deepest despair ? Try to be of
some use 5 serve your country and your friends j your con-
fined circumstances do not allow you to contribute to the
happiness of others, by generosity and extensive charity j
take the means which God is willing to place in your
hands." . . . After all I have said, I can hardly think the
India business will come in such a shape as to oblige me to
accept. I will, however, give my reason as free scope as
possible to act by boldly combating my passions, and hope
I shall decide for the best.* And again, a few weeks after-
wards, he wrote : ' I am sensible that finding I can live
comfortably in England, and havmg every reason to expect

43 LORD CORNWALUS. [1784.

comfort from my children, who are now nearly arriving at
an age when an anxious and affectionate father would wish
to be constantly watching them, I should, by going to India,
sacrifice all earthly happiness without even gratifying my
favourite passion, which has hitherto excited me to quit ease
and enjoyment for mortification and anxiety 5 yet I flatter
myself I shall have fortitude enough to do my duty, if I
should see a prospect of being really serviceable to my coun-
try.** In this sentence we see the very key-stone of his
character — ^a prevailing sense that he was not sent into the
world only to please himself, but commissioned to do an
appointed work j and that it was his duty to do it manfully
and with all his might.

But he was very doubtful at this time whether the
conditions of the proffered employment in India would be
such as to satisfy him that he could be of substantial use to
the State. His American experiences had painfully im-
pressed upon him the fact that there are conditions of
service which may frustrate the best efforts of zeal and
ability of the highest order 3 and the reports from India,
which from time to time had reached him since his re-
turn from the West, did much to confirm this impression
of the evil of divided authority and responsibility, and
the impossibility of escaping unsoiled from the an-
tagonism of jealous rivals. Pitt was now about to bring
in a new India Bill, and much would depend upon
the extent of the power to be conferred upon the
Governor-Greneral. The bill was a very good biUjt

* Comwallis Correspondence. Ross.

t Lord Russell, in his Memoirs of Charles Fox, has observed

1754.] PITTS INDIA BILL. 43

but the framers of it had striven rather to perfect the
machinery of the Home Government, and to establish just
relations between its several parts, than to introduce a
system of government in India so contrived as to prevent
those desperate collisions which had yielded such a growth
of scandals during the protracted administration of Warren
Hastings. The bill did not fulfil the conditions under
which alone Lord Cornwallis believed that he could be
serviceable to the State. Even before it had passed through
committee, the King's Government had offered him any
appointment under it that he might be inclined to accept.
He might go out as Governor-General, or he might go out
as Commander-in-Chief J but he could not hold both
offices. The ' favourite passion,' of which he had spoken
in the letter quoted above, was a desire for miHtary glory.

with infinite truth : *It was easy for Mr Fox, with his vast powers
of reasoning, long exercised on this subject, to prove that these twQ
authorities must be always in conflict ; that, with two supreme heads
confronted, confusion must ensue, and that the abuses of* the Indian
Government must be perpetuated under so strange and anomalous a
system. The experience of seventy years, however, has blunted
arguments which could not be logically refuted. The real supremacy
of the Ministers of the Crown, usually kept in the background, but
always ready to be exerted, has kept in check the administration of
the Company, and placed the affairs of India under that guarantee of
Mmisterial responsibility by which all things in Great Britain are
ordered and controlled. The Directors of the East India Company
have not ventured to connive at acts which a Minister of the Crown
would not sanction, and a Minister of the Crown would not sanction
acts which he could not defend in Parliament. Thus silently, but
effectually, the spirit of the British Constitution has pervaded India,
and the most absolute despotism has been qualified and tempered
by the genius of representative government*

44 LORD CORNWALUS. . [1784

He was very reluctant to leave the line of his profession.
But he could not bring himself to accept the chief com-
mand of the Indian Army, because, as he said, 'in the
present circumscribed situation of the Commander-in-
Chief, without power or patronage, an officer could
neither get credit to himself nor essentially serve the
public \ * and, as to the Governor-Generalship, he said that
if he should rehnquish the profession to which he had
devoted his hfe from his youth upwards, and had ' aban-
doned every consideration of happiness,* he might find
himself ' in competition with some person whose habits of
business would render him much more proper for the
office.* * Lord Shelburne had offered him the Governor-
Generalship, together with the Chief Command of the
Army, and he was now resolute, for these reasons, to
accept both offices or none.

The decision was conveyed in August to his old friend
Lord Sydney, then Secretary of State.f Cornwallis had
distinctly declared, on this and other occasions, his desire
for promotion in the miHtary service of his country, to
which, as both the King and the King's Ministers freely
admitted, no man had a better claim. George, indeed,
had blurted out that it was a shame that Lord Cornwallis
had not a better miHtary appointment. But when some
vacancies occurred at this time — as the Colonelcy of the

* Lord Cornwallis to Lord Sydney, August 4, 1784. — Cornwallis
Correspondence, Ross.

\ Lord Sydney was the Tom Townshend of Comwallis's boyhood
days. The * dear Tommy ' to whom he addressed the letter quoted
at page 6.

1784.] TREA TMENT OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 45

Grenadier Guards and the Governorship of Plymouth — the
King's Ministers, in a spirit of the most inexcusable job-
bery, nominated men whose pretensions were confined to
their family connections or political influence. This injus-
tice Cornwallis resented with becoming dignity- He told
Lord Sydney, and he told Mr Pitt, that if they had informed
him it would be for the benefit of the King and the King's
Grovernment that his claims should be ignored in favour of
others, he would not only have consented cheerfully to the
arrangement, but have given uj) a part of his fortime, if
required, to the recipients of the royal patronage. But he
had been rudely set aside without explanation. So he left
the presence of Lord Sydney, who had stammered out some
lame excuses, with an intimation that the fiiendship between
them was at an end 3 and he wrote to Mr Pitt, saying, ' I still
admire your character. I have still hopes that your abilities
and integrity will preserve this distressed country j I will
not be base enough, from a sense of personal injury, to join
faction, and endeavour, right or wrong, to obstruct the
measures of Government j but I must add — and with
heartfelt grief I do it — that private confidence cannot
easily be restored.* But it was restored — after a lapse of
only two days. Cornwallis and the young Minister met
by the request of the latter ; and Pitt offered him the post
of Constable of the Tower, which he had before held for
many years. Cornwallis declined the offer. But when
Pitt said that nothing had been further from his intention
than to slight one who had rendered such distinguished
service to his country, and that if he had unwittingly
offended, he could only ask pardon, and offer any repara-

46 LORD CORNWALUS. [1784-85.

tion in his power^ the generous nature of the soldier was
satisfied ; he accepted the appointment } and there was an
end of the rupture between him and both Sydney and
Pitt.

This was in November, 1784. The new India Bill
was by this time in ftill working order 3 and Mr Dundas
had become the Indian Minister, as the working member
and real autocrat of the Board of Control. Cornwallis did
not predict that much good would result from the arrange*
ment j for he thought that Dundas, though ' a vecy clever
fellow/ was ' but a short-sighted politician.* But the latter
was sufficiently far-seeing to be anxious to secure for India
the services of so good a man as CornwaUis 5 and the new
year was not many weeks old, when Pitt wrote a friendly,
flattering letter, pressing the Governor-Greneralship again
upon him, and earnestly requesting an interview. The
result was, that Pitt asked him to talk the matter over
with Dundas. When he met the Minister, Cornwallis
thought that he espied trickery and intrigue 5 that it was
intended to smooth down some ministerial difficulty, and
tiad little reference either to what was due to him or what
was due to the public. In order to propitiate him, Dundas
said that it would be easy to amend certain provisions of
the India Bill which restricted the powers of the Governor-
General. But Cornwallis stiU thought that the whole affair
savoured of an arrangement 5 and so, after deliberating with
himself for four-and-twenty hours, he respectfully declined
the offer.*

* Lord Cornwallis to Colonel Ross, Feb. 23, 1 785 . — ^The words of
the letter are : ' I easily found out from him (Dundas) that, after

178$.] LORD MACARTNEY. 47

On the 8th of Febraaiy, 1785 — ^almost at the very time
when Pitt was pressing the Govemor-Greneralship on Lord
Cornwallis * — ^Warren Hastings, amidst a shower of vale-
dictory addresses, carrying with him the good wishes of
large bodies of people, of all races and professions, walked
down to the river-side at Calcutta, and embarked on board
the pinnace which was to convey the departing Governor-
General to the vessel then waiting to bear him to England.
He was succeeded in the government by Mr John
Macpherson, the senior member of Council. In the course
of the summer of that year. Lord Macartney, who had
been Governor of Madras, went round to Calcutta, where,
beipg determined to set the young gentlemen of the settle-
ment an example of frugality and endurance, he walked
out in the sun without an umbrella, and nearly died from
the effects of his devotion. This was not, however, the
only incident which distinguished his visit to Bengal. He
received there a letter from the Court of Directors address-
having lost sight of my going for six months, it was now taken up to
prevent some disagreement of the Cabinet. He told me that if I
would say I would go, many things which I objected to in the bill
should be altered. I was well aware of the danger of a declaration
of that sort, and indeed from their manner of conducting business
ever since their bill passed, their disagreements at home, and the
circumstances attending the appointment of their generals, and the
present sudden application to me, merely to get rid of a moment-
ary rub among themselves, I was convinced it would be mad-
ness in me to engage; so that, after taking twenty-four hours to
consider, I gave a very civil negative.' — Cornwallis Correspondence,
Ross,

* In the above letter, dated Feb. 23, it is said that Pitt made the
offer ' a fortnight ago.'

48 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1785.

ed to him as Governor- General.* The refusal of Lord
Cornwallis to accept the office had been followed by the
nomination of Lord Macartney, who had the claim of good
Indian service, and who was on the spot to take up the
reins of office. But the arrangement was not palatable to
all the members of the King's Government 5 and I suspect
that the ' momentary rub among themselves,* of which
Cornwallis had spoken as the cause of the renewal of the
offer to him, was in reality a difference of opinion regard-
ing the expediency of selecting Lord Macartney. But the
latter nobleman had no greater desire than the former to
be the successor of Warren Hastings. He required rest j
he required, after the dangerous experiment of walking in
the sun, a visit to a milder climate for the restoration of
his shattered health 5 so he turned his face towards Eng-
land, and left the interregnum of Mr Macpherson to con-
tinue for another year.

In the mean while, work of another kind had been
found for Lord Cornwallis. The continental relations of .
Great Britain were at that time in a state which it was im-
possible to regard without some apprehensions of evil. We
were in a condition of most discouraging isolation. Our
only friend and ally was Prussia 5 and Frederick was not very
eager to boast of the connection. It was thought, however,
that he might be persuaded to put aside the over-cautious
reserve which stood in the way of a closer alliance between
the two countries, and that this object might more readily

♦ Lord Macartney was appointed Governor-General of India by
a resolution of the Court, dated Feb. 17, 1785. The votes for and
against were equal, and the decision was arrived at by lot.

1785.] INTER VIE W WITH FREDERICK THE GREA T. 49

be attained through the agency of some unaccredited Eng-
lishman of rank^ than through the ordinary official channel
of the British Minister at Berlin. It happened that Lord
Comwallis had been contemplating a continental tour with
the avowed object of improving his professional knowledge
by visiting the great Prussian Reviews. He was just the
man^ thereforie, for the purpose, as one not likely to awaken
the suspicions of the King. Solicited by our Ministers, he
readily undertook to do his best, and at the end of the
summer he crossed the Channel. His instructions incul-
cated caution. He was to listen rather than to talk 5 to
receive rather than to givej to draw Frederick into an
avowal of his wishes rather than to declare those of his own
Court. But it was soon apparent to him that he was not
likely to make much political progress in Prussia. He was
disappointed with everything 5 disappointed with his re-
ception, disappointed with the reviews, and very glad when
the time came to return to England. Before he set his
face homewards, however, he had accomplished an inter-
view with Frederick, which resulted in a clear declaration
of the views and wishes of the great King. The growing
infirmity of monarchs is the best security for peace. What
Frederick might have said, years before, we can only con-
jecture 3 but, in his decrepitude, he longed to be left to his
repose, and the policy which suited him best was that which
was most certain to have a pacific issue. He said, in effect,
fiiat England and Prussia were not strong enough to con-
tend with France, Austria, and Russia, and that any open
alliance between the two first-named powers might result

m a disastrous war. If Russia could be weaned from the
VOL. I. 4

50 LORD CORNWALLIS. [1785-^.

Austrian connection, a tripartite alliance might do some-
thing 5 but England and Prussia alone would be powerless
against those three great states, with all their lesser allies.
England would have to bear the brunt of the war by sea,
and Prussia by land ; and the astute monarch saw plainly
that nothing but ruin could result from such a combination
against him.*

Lord CorriwaUis returned to England before the end of
the year. On the 9th of January, 1786, Lord Macartney
arrived from India. The question of the Govemor-Grener-
alship was now to be definitively settled. Lord Macartney
had been formally appointed Governor-Greneral j but he
desired to attach to his acceptance of the office certain
conditions to which the King's Ministers demurred. He
was an Irish Peer. He asked for an English Peerage. The
Grovernment thought that this should be rather a reward for
good service done than a * bid * for good service to be done,

• Memorandum by Lord Comwallis. — Cornwallis Correspond-
ence, Ross. — ^The following extract from the * Heads ' of Conversation
is interesting, on more than one account. * The King said that he
knew France was trying to hurt us everywhere ; that she had sent
people to India to disturb the tranquillity of that country, but they
had returned without effecting anything ; that she was busily employ-
ed in Ireland. He hoped we would lose no time in putting our
affairs there on so safe a footing as to be in no danger of a civil war,
which, on an appearance of a foreign one, France would not fail to
use her utmost efforts to foment.' This interview took place on Sep-
tember 17, 1785. ' Carlyle, in his * History of Frederick the Great,'
makes no mention of it ; but it was well worthy of mention. He,
however, speaks of a royal dinner-party, on a previous day, after a
review at Gross-Tinz, at which entertainment were present * La
Fayette, Comwallis, and the Duke of York.'

1786.] QUESTION OP THE GOVERNOR-GENERALSHIP. 51

and therefore refiised to comply with his request. It would
seem that they were not sorry to split with him. He had
some enemies in the Cabinet^ and external influences had
been brought to bear against his succession.* Moreover,
there was a growing conviction that Lord Cornwallis was
the right man to be sent to India, if his scruples could be
overcome. He had always believed that unless large
powers were vested in him, he could render no service to
his country. He desired to hold in his own hands both
the supreme civil and the supreme military authority 5 and
seeing that, if thwarted, as Hastings had been by a factious
opposition in the Council, he would have no real power of
any kind, he declared it to be an essential condition of his
acceptance of the office that he should be empowered on
great occasions to act upon his own responsibility, against the
votes of the majority of the Council. To these conditions
Pitt and Dundas readily consented. They could not have

♦ This is very dearly stated in the following passage of a letter
from Mr Dundas, given in * Barrow's Life of Macartney : ' * You are
rightly informed when you suppose that the appointment of Lord
Macartney was not a favourite measure with several members of the
administration. Neither was it popular with a great body of the
directors and proprietors of the East India Company. I need not
mention that it was not agreeable either to the partisans of Mr
Hastings or of Sir John Macpherson. When, therefore, against
such an accumulation of discontent and opposition Mr Pitl was in-
duced by me to concur in the return of Lord Macartney to India as
Governor-General, it was not unnatural that both of us should have
felt hurt that he did not rather repose his future fortunes in our hands
than make it the subject oi^^sinequA non preliminary. And I think,
if Lord Macartney had known us as well then as he did afterwards;
he would have felt as we did.'

52 LORD CORNWALLIS. [1786.

placed these extended powers in any safer hands than those
of Lord Comwallis; and in safe hands this extension of
authority could not be other than a public good. So at
last Cornwalhs consented to be Governor-Greneral and
Commander-in-Chief in India.* *The proposal of going
to India/ he wrote on the 23rd of February to Colonel
Ross^ ' has been pressed upon me so strongly, with the cir-
cumstance of the Govemor-Greneral's being independent of
his Council, as intended in Dundas's former bill, and haying
the supreme command of the military, that, much against
my will, and with grief of heart, I have been obliged to say
yes, and to exchange a life of ease and content, to encoimter
all the plagues and miseries of command and public station.
I have this day notified my consent, and shall go down to-
morrow for a few days to Culford.*t It was all settled
now. There was an end to the doubts, and questionings,
and obstinate self-conflicts of years.

Of the two nominees, the rejected one was, probably,
far the happier of the two. Lord Macartney is said to have
been delighted with the result. *That he had a strong
disinclination to accept the appointment,* says his bio-
grapher, Mr Barrow, 'and that the conditions on which
only he could accept it were made solely on public grounds,
the following anecdote, obligingly communicated by Lady
Macartney, is an unequivocal proof. Her ladyship being
one evening at a large party. Lord Macartney came in, and

* Lord Comwallis was appointed Governor-General by an
unanimous resolution of the Court of Directors, dated Febniaiy 24,
1786.

t Comwallis Correspondence. Ross.

X786.] INCREASED POWERS, 53

being impatient to communicate some intelligence to her,
took out a card, and wrote with a pencil on the back of it
as follows : '^ / am the happiest man in England at this hour.
Lord CornwalliSf I hear, is Governor-General of India,'*
The card is still in her ladyship's possession, with the pencil
writing upon it.'*

The King's Ministers kept their promise, and prepared
at once to bring in a supplementary Act of Parliament, ex-
plaining or amending the objectionable clauses in the India
Bill of i784.t It was certain that it would be opposed.

* Barrow's Life of Macartney.

t The following is the portion of the bill which relates to the ex-
tension of the powers of the Governor-General. It was * enacted,
that when and so often as any measure or question shall be proposed
or agitated in the Supreme Council at Fort William, in Bengal . . .
whereby the interests of the said United Company, or the safety or
tranquillity of the British Possessions in India, are or may be essen-
tially concerned or affected, and the said Governor-General ....
shall be of opinion that it will be expedient either that the measures
so proposed or agitated ought to be adopted or carried into execution,
or that the same ought to be suspended, or wholly rejected, and the
several other Members of such Council then present shall dissent from
such opinion, the said Governor-General, . . . and the Members of
the said Council, shall communicate in Council to each other in writ-
ing, under their respective hands (to be recorded at large on their
Secret Consultations), the respective grounds and reasons of their
respective opinions ; and if, after considering the same, the said Go-
vernor-General, . . . and the other Members of the said Council, shall
severally retain their opinions, it shall and may be lawful to and for
the said Governor- General ... to make and declare any order (to be
signed and subscribed by the said Governor-General . . . .) for sus-
pending or rejecting the measure or question so proposed or agitated,
in part or in whole, or to make and declare such order and resolution
for adopting and carrying the measure so proposed or agitated into

54 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1786.

The party who saw, or pretended to see, only a constitu-
tional safeguard in such opposition as that with which
Francis and Clavering had held in restraint the independent
action of Governor-Greneral Hastings, were alarmed and
indignant at the thought of placing such large powers in
tlie hands of a single man. It was to establish a gigantic
despotism. So against this measure Edmund Burke lifted
up his voice, declaring that it contemplated the introduc-
tion of an arbitrary and despotic government into India,
on the false pretence of its tending to increase the security
of our British Indian possessions, and to give fresh vigour,
energy, and promptitude to the conduct of business, where
before had been only weakness, decrepitude, and delay. To
this Dundas replied in a convincing speech, which must have
touched, in a sensitive place, Philip Francis, who had en-
deavoured to introduce a bill of his own — that arbitrary
and despotic government might result from the action of
two or three, no less than from the action of one 3 and that
it was certain that all the mischief and misfortune that had,
for many years, afflicted India, had arisen from the exist-
ence of party feelings and factious behaviour among the
different Members of Council. The bill was passed by
large majorities in both Houses of Parliament.

execution, as the said Governor-General • . . . shall think fit and ex-
pedient ; which said last-mentioned order and resolution, so made
and declared, shall be signed, as well by the said Governor- General
... as by all the other Members of the Council then present, and
shall be as effectual and valid to all intents and purposes as if all the
said other Members had advised the same, or concurred therein,'
The words omitted relate to the extension in like manner of the powers
of the Governor of Madras and Bombay.

1786.] BMBARKA TION FOR INDIA. 55

Before this bill had passed into law. Lord Cornwallis
had sailed for India. He embarked on board the Swallow
packet in the first week of May,* accompanied by his staff,
which then consisted of his dear friend. Colonel Ross, Cap-*
tain Haldane, and Lieutenant Madden. It happened that
among the passengers on board the Swallow was one of the
ablest and most esteemed members of the Company's Civil
Service. Afler many years of good work in India, where
he had chiefly distinguished himself in the Revenue De-
partment, John Shore had returned to England in the hope
of ending his days there in the enjoyment of the very mod-
erate competence which he had earned by honest exertion.
But the high character which he carried home witli him
had recommended him to the Court of Directors for em-
ployment in a more important situation than any which he
had yet held ; and they had invited him to return to India
to 1^ a coming vacancy in the Supreme Council, He had
accepted the offer with manifest reluctance 5 but he had
not proceeded far on his voyage, when the prospect before
him sensibly brightened, and the regrets with which he had
abandoned ease and happiness in England began to lose
half their poignancy. He was soon in habits of intimacy
with Lord Cornwallis — of intimacy cemented by mutual
esteem 5 and there was in the disposition of the new Go-

* Lord Teignmouth, in his Life of his father, says that Mr Shore
* sailed from Portsmouth on the 12th of April ;' but it is obvious, from
a letter in the Cornwallis Correspondence, that the vessel had not
lefl Portsmouth on the 30th. It is probable that Shore went on board
in the river, and that the vessel sailed /or Portsmouth on the 1 2th.
The point, however, is of no importance.

S6 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1786.

vernor-General, and in the high sense of public duty which
he was carrying out to his work, ample assurance that the
Future of the Government of India would in many material
.points differ, most honourably, from the Past.*

Mr Shore, who had served under the administration of
Warren Hastings, knew well what kind of relations might
subsist between a Governor-General and a Member of his
Council. He had taken some part — undesignedly, perhaps,
for he was- eminently a man of peace — in the fierce dis-
sensions which had agitated the settlement, and had for a
time sided with Francis, rather on public grounds than by
reason of any personal sympathies, for he had instructed the
Councillor in Revenue matters, and was supposed to have
written some of his minutes.f But he had returned to

* * Lord Comwallis is a most amiable man, and fully deserves
the character which he holds with the rest of the world. I am proud
to say that my sentiments on political business and public pring^ples
correspond with his. He treats me with all possible regard and con-
fidence, and I could not live on happier terms with him. He was
also pressed into the service contrary to his inclinations. Colonel
Ross, Captain Haldane, and Lieutenant Madden, are all respectable
friends and agreeable companions.* — Correspondence of yohn Shore,
afterwards Lord Teignmouth,

+ A contemporary pamphleteer (Captain Price) says, * That at one
time Messrs Anderson and Ducarrell were out of Calcutta, and Mr
Hastings, knowing that Mr Shore was the only man that Mr Francis
had left to assist him in drawing up minutes, contrived, as it was re-
ported, to order Mr Shore on an Embassy to the Rajah of Kishnagur,
with whom he had once resided, as collecting chief. Mr Francis,
having not one of his assistants at hand, fell sick, and could not
attend at the council-table, but desired that he might have all min-
utes sent to him, and he would consider them, and give his opinion
at a future meeting. After Mr Hastings had laughed at him for his

1786.] JOHN SHORE, ^

J

England in the vessel which carried Warren Hastings from
India^ and on board ship a close friendship had grown up
between them. Hastings had turned the dreary inactivity
of life at sea to account by devoting himself to literary pur-
suits, and among his other efforts in the Humanities he had
paraphrased an ode of Horace into an affectionate poetical
address to his friend. And Shore had seen quite enough,
since his return to England, to cause him to regard the
violent conduct of Hastings*s opponents with disapprobation
and dislike. He clearly discerned the malignant injustice
with which the great Indian statesman was pursued 3 and
no man knew better the eminent services which he had
rendered to his country. But he had a keen sense, also, of
the errors which Hastings had committed both in his public
and his private life, and he felt that the poHtical and social
moraHty of the English in India alike demanded a sweeping
reform.

ft

Upon general subjects of this kind, and upon more par-
ticular questions of administration. Shore had so much to
say, and Cornwallis was so well disposed to inquire and to
listen, that the new Governor-Greneral found that his voyage
to India by no means covered a period of lost time. When
he reached Calcutta, he was as well informed on Indian

schoolboy truancy for ten days or a fortnight, he wrote privately to
Mr Shore to return to Calcutta. This Mr Shore let Francis know,
and he instantly grew better. This recovery Mr Wheler announced
at the Council Board. Mr Hastings said that he had known as much
two days before, adding, that Mr Shore was coming down. Whether
Mr Wheler comprehended the jest or no, I know not ; but Mr
Francis, after having taken a few doses of salts, to save appearances
by making pale his visage, returned to his duty.*

«;8 LORD COJRNWALUS, fi-rSd.

•
affairs as any man could be who had been fighting the
battles of his country so long in the opposite hemisphere,
and had never thought that Providence would cast his lot in
the Eastern world. But even in circumstances tlie most
favourable, it is a strange and perplexing situation in which
a man, whose experience of other countries, however great,
can neither guide nor help him, finds himself, when first
called upon to administer the multitudinous affairs of our
Eastern Empire. That empire, compared with the extent
which it has now attained, was, when Cornwallis entered
upon its government, one of very limited dimensions.
But that which then contracted the sphere of our interna.
administration enlarged the scope of our foreign policy, and
the unsettled state of our relations with the Princes and
Chiefs of the neighbouring dominions was a source of even
greater anxiety than the disorders which obstructed the
domestic government of our own possessions. To be a little
staggered and bewildered at first is the necessary condition
of humanity in such a conj\mcture3 and Lord Cornwallis
was not one to form more than a modest estimate of his in-
dividual power to cope with the difficulties which beset his
position.

On the nth of September, 1786, the Swallow anchor-
ed in the Hooghly, and on the following morning Lord
Cornwallis disembarked with his staff. All the principal
people of the settlement, headed by Mr Macpherson, went
down to the river-side to welcome him and to conduct him
to the Fort, where his commissions were read, and he took
the oaths of office.* It was a great event for Bengal ; a

♦ The following is the account of the Governor-General's nrr.val.

1786.] ARRIVAL AT CALCUTTA, 59

great event for India. For the first time, an English noble-
man of high rank and high character had appeared in
Bengal, fresh from the Western world, knowing nothing
of India but what he had read in books or gleaned from
conversation } bringing a new eye, a new hand to the work
before him 3 and having no regard for the traditions and
the usages which had given the settlement so unsavoury a
reputation. What had been heard of him before his coming
was not much 5 but the Httle was of a nature to win the
respect of some, perhaps to excite the alarm of others, and
there was a general feeling of a coming change. It was
known before his arrival, that in England, beset by
petitioners for place and patronage as he was from the
very moment of his acceptance of office, he had resolutely

as given in a contemporary Calcutta journal. I am indebted for it to
an interesting volume of extracts from the Indian newspapers of the
last century, published by my friend Mr Seton-Karr, now a judge of
the High Court of Calcutta :

* Thursday, Sept, 14, 1786. Cnlcutta. — On Monday last arrived
in the river the Right Honourable the Earl Comwallis, and on Tues-
day morning he came on shore. His Lordship was met at the water-
side by a party of the body-guard ; from thence he walked into the
Fort, where he was received by the late Governor-General with every
respect due to the dignity of his rank and character. The troops
were under arms, and received his Lordship as their future Com-
mander-in-Chief with all the military honours. His Lordship's com-
mission investing him with the extensive powers of Govemor-Creneral
and Commander-in-Chief was then read, after which he retired to
breakfast, when several gentlemen had the honour of being introduced
to his Lordship. With Lord Comwallis came Mr Shore (though in-
disposition prevented him from attending his Lordship in person),
Colonel Ross, Captain Haldane, and Mr Madden, a nephew of hit
Lordship.^

6o LORD COJRNWALLIS. [1786.

refused to make any promises even to his nearest friends.*
And now it soon became apparent that he was proot
against all similar importunities in India. He knew that
he had a great work before him, and that he could do it
only with the cleanest hands. If he had been followed to
India by wistful hangers-on and hungry parasites he could
have accomplished little 3 but the purity and disinterested-
ness of his conduct were so apparent from the beginning,
that people soon began to acquiesce in that which, however
inconvenient to them, they knew had its root only in the
public virtue of their new ruler.

He was a kind-hearted man, hospitable and courteous,
and the social amenities ever due from the Governor-
Greneral to his companions in exile were dispensed with no
niggardly hand. At that time, the spacious and imposing
edifice on the skirts of the great plain of Calcutta, which
now receives the Viceroys of India on their arrival, was only a
design for future execution. Lord CornwaUis occupied a
house of inferior pretensions to many that were held by the
leading servants of the Company. But he was always averse

• * Earl Comwallis has conducted himself, since his appointment,
with singular reserve. To the numerous solicitations which have been
poured in upon him from all quarters, he has given the most perempt-
ory refusal, and has informed his friends that it is his determined
purpose not to make any arrangements, nor to give any appointments,
until he is seated in his government The noble Earl takes out but
three friends : Colonel Ross, who is to be his secretary. Captain
Halden, and Captain Maddox. Colonel Tarleton has come home in
the prospect of securing an appointment from Lord Comwallis, but
the Colonel has received the same answer with all the other appli-
cants, that the noble Lord had it not in his power to make a single
appointment in "E.ngXzxi^.'— Calcutta Gazette.

f786.] THE NEW GOVERNOR-GENERAL, 61

to pomp and display, and was well content to divest himself
as much as possible of the accessories of State. * My life
is not a very agreeable one,' he wrote soon after his arrival,
* but I have ventured to leave off a good deal of the buck-
ram, which rather improves it.* The inconvenience of
limited space, as an impediment to hospitality on a grand
scale, was obviated by a resort on great occasions to one of
the public buildings of Calcutta. The guests of the Govern-
or-Greneral were received in the ' Old Court House.' *
Al these entertainments there was no lack of geniality, but
an example of moderation was set which permanently in-
fluenced the social usages of the English in India. It was
soon known that hard drinking and high play were distaste-

* The following is the account of the Englisli Government House,
given by a contemporary French writer, M. Grandpr^ : * The
Governor-General of the English settlements east of the Cape of Good
Hope resides at Calcutta. As there is no palace yet built for him,
he lives in a house on the Esplanade, opposite the Citadel. The
house is handsome, but by no means equal to what it ought to be
for a person of so much importance. Many private individuals in the
town have houses as good ; and if the Governor were disposed to any
extraordinary luxury, he must curb his inclination for want of the
necessary accommodation of room. The house of the Governor of .
Pondicherry is much more magnificent.* There is a question at this
time as to the spot on which the old Government House stood. An
ingenious writer in the Calcutta Revieiv (the Rev. Mr Long, I
believe) says : * Opinions differ as to the precise locality of the old
Government House. Some say it was where the Treasury is now,
and others at the south-east comer of Government-place.* The
■old Court House,' which also did duty for a town-hall, stood on
the site now occupied by the Scotch church. It was pulled down
in 1792.

62 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1786

ful to Lord Cornwallis, and would be discountenanced by
him. And from that time a steady improvement super-
vened upon the social morality of the Presidency. People
began to keep earlier hours j there was less of roystering
and of gambling than before his arrival^ and^ as a natural
result, less duelling and suicide, both of which were fear?
fully rampant at the time of Lord Cornwallis*s arrival in
Calcutta.

He was a tolerant and charitable man, too 5 and he
was fain to attribute the irregularities, which forced them-
selves on his notice, in a great measure to the 'intense
heat and unhealthiness of the climate.' He had arrived
in the worst month of the year — the month in which the
heavy rains of the preceding quarter begin to intermit,
and the saturated plains exhale a steamy fog more dele-
terious to European health than the fierce sun and the
arid wind of the summer solstice. His correspondence
during the first few months of his residence in India in-
dicate the lassitude which falls on aU men in that trying
interval between the hot and the cold seasons. But his
health was not injuriously affected by the climate, and
•his only complaint was that it was not pleasant. Perhaps,
in his inmost heart, he sometimes repented of the step
that he had taken, and wished that he was again at Cul-
ford. It is certain that his ' heart untravelled ' often turned
fondly towards the children whom he had left behind him,
and it was only by a strong effort that he could reconcile
himself to his lot, by thinking that his tenure of office in
India would enable him, for their sakes, to increase his
fortune. He had not been many days in India when he

1786.] SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC CHARACTERISTICS, 63

— ^-^i^M^— ^^^1^^-^^— ^™ ^M^—^^»^1^^^^^^-^^^^»^^M^.^^M^1^M^-— ^— — ^^^^^^^^^^^^»^— ^^W^i^^^i^W^^i— ^^^^^^»^^^^^^»^"— ^^

wrote to Lord Brome, saying, * I am always thinking of
you with the greatest anxiety. I have no fear but for
your health. If that is good, I am sure everything will be
right. You must write to me by every opportunity, and
longer letters than I write to you 5 for I have a great deal
more business every day than you have upon a whole
school-day, and I never get a holiday. I have rode once
upon an elephant, but it is so like going in a cart that you
would not think it very agreeable.' * A Httle later, he
wrote to his boy about the Order of the Garter, which,
shortly after his departure from England, the King had
spontaneously conferred upon him. ' You w|ll have heard
that soon after I left England I was elected Knight of the
Grarter, and very likely laughed at me for wishing to wear
a blue riband over' my fat belly. I could have excused my-
self in the following Hues :

Behold the child, by nature's kindly law.
Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw ;
Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,
A littie louder, but as empty quite ;
Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage,
And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age.

But I can assure you, upon my honour, that I neither
asked for it nor wished for it. The reasonable object of
ambition to a man is to have his name transmitted to pos-
terity for eminent services rendered to his country and to
mankind. Nobody asks or cares whether Hampden, Marl-
borough, Pelham, or Wolfe were Knighis of the Garter.*
This is very pleasant in its good sense, its good feeling, and,

* Comwallis Correspondence. Ross.

64 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1786.

above all, its undeniable truth. It is, moreover, essentially
characteristic of the writer j for he was the least ambitious
and self-seeking of public men, and if he could only serve
the State and benefit his family, he was content. The Blue
Riband was really nothing to him. He covdd afford to
laugh at it. ' I am a Knight and no Knight,* he wrote in
another letter to his son \ ' for my stars, garters, and ribands
are all lost in Arabia, and some wild Arab is now making
a figure with Honi soil qui mal y pense round his knee.* J
hope you have got French enough to construe that, but I
own it is not a very easy sentence. If I continue to hear
good accounts of you, I shall not cry afler my stars and
garters. ... I think, upon the whole, as you intend your
bay horse for a hunter, you were right to cut off his tail.*

Thoughts of this kind keep men alive in India, In few
breasts have the domestic affections been more deeply rooted

* They seem, however, to have been recovered, or another set of
insignia was sent ; for the Calcutia Gazette of the 15th of March,
1787, says : * We had the pleasure of announcing to the public in last
Gazette the arrival of the Blue Riband, and all the insignia of the
Order of the Garter, for the Right Honourable the Govemor-GeneraL
His Lordship, having been authorized to make his own choice of the
persons to perform the ceremony of investiture, was pleased to nomin-
ate the Honourable Charles Stuart and John Shore, Esquires, two
members of the Supreme Council, to execute that office, and to fix on
Thursday last for the purpose. Accordingly, in presence of a
numerous and splendid company, his Lordship was invested at the
Government House with the Riband by Mr Stuart, and by Mr Shore
with the Garter, when a salute of twenty-one guns was fired from
Fort William, and his Lordship received the congratulations of the
company present, on being honoured with so distinguished and well-
earned a mark of his royal master's regard and approbation.'

1786.] STATE OF THE CIVIL SERVICE. 65

than in that of Lord Comwallis. The burning snn of
India took nothing from their greenery and freshness.
Amidst the incessant toil and anxious responsibility of his
twofold office, he was sustained by thoughts of his Suffolk
home. * Let me know that you are well, and that you
are doing well,' he wrote to his children, * and I can be
happy even in Calcutta.' He had foimd that his work was
very onerous and his duties very impleasant— especially un-
pleasant, it may be said, to a good-tempered, kindly-hearted
man, who was always very happy whfen he was doing some
good office to another — for his public duty was continually
bringing him into conflict with private interest. There
was necessarily much perplexity in the newness of his situa-
tion, and many points upon which time alone could enable
him to form self-satisfying and conclusive opinions. But
amidst all the doubts and uncertainties which distracted
him, one clear demonstrable truth gleamed out from the
surroimding darkness. He had an overpowering convic-
tion that the prosperity of the British Empire in India de-
pended more upon the character of the European function-
aries employed in its administration than upon anything in
the world beside. He could see^ somewhat indistinctly,
perhaps, at first, that the system itself was bad ; but he
knew that the best system in the world must fail if its
agents were wanting in wisdom and integrity. What Mr
John Macpherson had called — 2l little too blandly, perhaps
— the * relaxed habits * of the public service of India was an
msuperable obstacle to successful administration. There
was nothing strange or inexplicable in the state of things

which then existed. In good truth, it was the most natural
TOL. I. 5

66 LORD CORNWALLIS. [1786^

•
thing in the world — to be accoiinted for without any large
amount of philosophic penetration.. The East India Com-
pany had not at that time learnt to appreciate the great
truth, which soon afterwards became the very root of their
marvellous prosperity, that good pay is the parent of good
service. They had granted to their servants only a small
official pittance', with the tacit understanding that the small
pay was to be atoned for by the great opportunities of
official position. It was a very old story 5 but so curious^
that even now it may be worth telling in detail.

When, in the reign of James the First, Sir Thomas Roe
went out as Ambassador to the Court of the Mogul, and
took a comprehensive survey of the Company's establish-
ments, his quick eye hit the blot at once. He saw that
their servants, being permitted to trade on their own accoimt,
neglected the affairs of their masters. How could anything
else be expected ? What did they leave their homes for ?
— for what did they banish themselves to a wretched
country, and consent to live far away from all the amenities
of civilization ? The Private Trade was naturally more to
them than the Public Trade. The ambassador, therefore,
recommended the Company to prohibit it altogether, and
to grant sufficient salaries to their servants. ' Absolutely
prohibit the private trade,* he said, ' for your business will
be better done. I know this is harsh. Men profess they
care not for bare wages. But you will take away this plea
if you give great wages to their content 5 and then you
know what you part from. But then you must make

I

1600—1700.] HISTORY OF THE CIVIL SERVICE. 67

good choice of your servants, and have fewer.' He was a
great man — obviously in advance of his age ! But it took
nearly two centuries to ingraft this truth on the understand-
ing of the Company.

And so their servants, as^ they settled down, first in one
fectory, then in another, took their bare wages, and made
what money they could by trade. It had not been made
worth their while to be diligent and honest servants ^ and,
cut off from their employers by thousands of miles of sea,
which it then took five or six months, and often more, to
traverse, they did not stand in much fear of the controlling
authority at home. Every now and then some one was
«ent out with special powers to set the different factories in
cwder, and to reform the establishments j but it was a
mercy if, in a little time, he did not mar what he was sent
to mend, and, being more powerftil than all the rest, be-
come more profligate too.

Still, if there was not much order, there was some
form. A system of promotion was established which, with
but slight variation, lasted not far from two centuries. It
was TSdd down in London in the following terms, and
carried out at all the factories : ' For the advancement of
our apprentices,' said the Court of Directors, ' we direct
that, after they have served the first fiwe years, they shall
have 5^10 per annum for thQ two last years 5 and, having
served these two years, to be entertajmed one yeare longer
as writers, and have writers' sallaryj and having served
that yeare, to enter into the degree of factors, which other-
wise would have been ten years. And, knowing that a
distinction of titles is in many respects necessary, we do

68 LORD CORNWALUS. [i6oo-i7oa

order that when the apprentices have served their times,
they be stiled writers; and when the writers have served
their times, they be called fcxtors ; and factors having
served their times, to be stiled merchants; and merchants
having served their times, to be stiled senior merchants*
After a time, the style and rank of apprentice ceased, but
the title of ' writer,' * factor,* 'junior merchant,* and ' senior
merchant,* lasted long after the civilians had ceased alto-
gether to trade — lasted, we may say, almost as long as the
Company itself.

A clear idea of one of the Company's establishments,
at the end of the seventeenth, or the beginning of the
eighteenth century, may be derived from a little volume of
travels written by one Charles Lockyer, and published in
1711. The most flourishing of their settlements at that
time was Madras. Mr Lockyer says, 'that it was the
grandest and the best ordered. As it surpasses their other
settlements in grandeur, so the orders of the Council are
more regarded and pimctually executed, and each member
has a respect proportionably greater than others shown to
him.* The civil establishment consisted of a president,
with a salary of sS2oo per anuxmi, and gratuity of j^ioo ;
six councillors, with salaries from sSioo to ^^40 a year,
according to rank 3 six senior merchants, 5^40 each 3 two
junior merchants, at sSso per annxmi 3 ^ve factors, at sSi^ 3
and ten writers at sS^ per annum. Married men were
allowed ' diet money * besides their pay, at a rate of from
five to ten pagodas (say from sS2 to 4^4) a month. 'But
for inferior servants, . who dine at the general table, they
have only washing and oyl for lamps extraordinary.* The

i6oo— iToa] HISTORY OF THE CIVIL SERVICE, 69

Company's servants lived together in the old fort. ' The
Govemour's lodgings/ says Mr Lockyer, * take up about a
third part of the inner fort, is three stories high, and has
many apartments in it. Two or three of the Council have
their rooms there, as well as several inferior servants ; the
'coiintant's and secretary's offices are kept one story up 5
but the consultation-room is* higher, curiously adorned with
fire-ai*ms, in several figures, imitating those in the armory of
the Tower of London/ There were two common tables;
one at which the Grovemor and the higher servants dined j
another appropriated to the factors and ' writers — ' differing
only in this,' says Mr Lockyer — 'here you have a great
deal of punch and little wine j there what wine you please,
and as little punch.* The Grovemor went abroad with an
escort of native peons, ' besides his English guards to attend
him,* with two Union flags carried before him, and ' country
musick enough to frighten a stranger into a belief the men
were mad.**

This accoimt of the factory at Madras may, with slight
variations, be held to describe also the factory at Surat, the
only one which at that time could vie with it. The salaries
were nearly the same, and the customs of the settlement
almost identical. It would appear, however, that all the
Company's servants (sitting according to their rank) dined
at one table^^ which is said to have been kept up in great
style — 'all the dishes, plates, and drinking-cups being of

♦ This writer gives a minute account of the trade carried on by
the Company's servants. He says, that as it was no uncommon thing
to make fifty per cent, by a venture, money borrowed at twenty-five
per cent firom a native capitalist turned out very well.

TO LORD CORNWALUS, [1600--1700.

massive and pure silver/ A band of music attended the
President at dinner, and when the kabobs came in after
the soup, and the curry after the kabobs, there was a
flourish of trumpets to announce each arrival.

The cost of all this was doubtless very small, and the
parade thereof very modest, judged by the standard of the
present times. But those were the early days of the Com-
pany, who started fi-om small beginnings, and were pro-
ceeding upon what was then called a ' purely mercantile
bottom.' They were, therefore, not very well pleased when
the ship-captains carried home to them grievous accounts
of the pomp and extravagance of their servants 5 and so
they set themselves to work, heart and soul, to correct this
licentiousness. Next to the matter of good investments, it
was for a long time to come their leading idea to inculcate
personal economy and purity of life j and though the thrift
was somewhat exaggerated, it cannot be said that there
was not some reason for the uneasiness that they felt.

The seventeenth century closed in darkly and turbulently
upon the Company's establishments in all parts of India.
East and West it was all the same. Bengal vied with Surat
in the lawlessness and licentiousness of the English factories.
The fierce internecine contentions which arose among the
Company's servants were the greatest scandal of all. Now-
a-days, when members of Council fall out, they write strong-
ly-worded minutes against each other, content with a war
of words. At the end of the eighteenth century they * went
out,* according to the most approved laws of honour, and
fired pistols at each other j but at the close of the seven-
teenth they used their fists, supplemented by an occasional

i;oo— i8oa] DISORDERS OF THE SETTLEMENTS, 71

cudgel — the argumentum hacculinum being held in great
esteem in the English councils. The President kept his
councillors in order with a staff, and sometimes enforced his
authority with such a lavish expenditure of blows, that hu-
man nature could not bear up without complaining. One
unfortunate member of the Civil Service of the period com-
plained that he had received from the President ' two cuts
in the head, the one very long and deep, the other a slight
thing in comparison to that 5 then a great blowe on my
left arme, which has enflamed the shoulder, and deprived
me of the use of that limbe j on my right side a blowe in
my ribs, just beneath the pap, which is a stoppage to my
breath, and makes me incapable of helping myself j on my
left hip another, nothing inferior to the first -, but, above
all, a cut on the brow of my eye.' Truly a hazardous serv-
ice 3 but there were greater dangers even than these cudgel-
ings, for it was reported home to the Company, in x 696-97,
that there had been a plot among their servants at Surat
to murder the 'President. 'There is strong presumption
that it was intended first that the President should be stab-
bed 5 when hopes of that failed by the guards being doubled,
it seems poison was agreed upon, and all boimd to secresy
upon a horrid imprecation of damnation to the discoverer,
whom the rest were to faU upon and cut off.' *

In Bengal, matters were in no better state. That settle-
ment was not then what it afterwards came to be — the chief
seat of English trade and English government — but was
looked upon, by reason of its remoteness, as a sort of out-
lying factory of no great credit or promise. The Company's

♦ MS. Records.

7a LORD CORNWALLIS. [1781.

establishment was then at Chuttanutty, which has since
come to be called Calcutta, a place then of no great ac-
count 5 and the Company's servants, under the chieftain-
ship of Job Charnock, had not lived together more peace-
fiilly than their brethren at Surat. Charnock appears to
have been a bold bad man, half a heathen, immoderately
addicted to fighting, and not only contentious himself, but
the cause of contention among others. As a man of busi-
ness he was slothful in the extreme, hated writing letters
and recording ' consultations * for the perusal of his masters
at home, and therefore threw himself into the hands of a
fellow named Hall, ^ captain of the soldiers,' who kept a
punch-house and a billiard-table, and soon came to rule the
settlement. There were besides, at that time, among the
chief servants of the Company, a Mr Ellis, who is said to
have been as ignorant as Charnock was slothful ^ and one
Charles Pale, who was as fond of fighting as his chief, and
' whose masterpiece,* it is said, ^ was to invent differences
between man and man, and deeply swear to the most extra-
vagant lies he could invent.' Things were, indeed, in so
bad a state, that Sir John Gouldsburgh went round from
Madras to reduce them to order. Before he arrived, Char-
nock and Pale had died ; and so two obstacles to the re-
formation of the settlement were removed.

The equanimity of the Company was at this time much
disturbed by the bad writing and the bad morals of their
servants. Whether there was any connection discovered
between the two is not very apparent, though more unlike-
ly relationships have ere now been detected. It would be
hard to judge by their peimianship some public men whom

I70O— i8oo.] ADMONITIONS OF THE DIRECTORS, 73

I could name. But in the early days of the East India
Company's establishments, bad writing may have been the
direct result of bad morals — ^the feeble, shaky, indistinct
letters of the morning clearly reflecting the debauch over-
night. Be this as it may, the managers at home wrote out
in their general letter of the jth of January, 1710-11 : 'We
find the papers, in the packets and other writings, are very
badly performed. We expect this to be remedied 5 and if
any of the writers don't write so good hands as might be
expected, we hope they will improve and do better. If,
through pride or idleness, they, or any other with you, will .
not, give them fair warning, and if they don't mend, dismiss
them our service. The same we say of all that are immoral
and won't be reclaimed. And let this be a general rule for
all time to come.' * This, at all events, is short, sharp, and
decisive. But the Company had, in addition to these gen-
eral orders, some specific rules to prescribe. They were al-
ways steady advocates and promoters of the messing system.
They believed that a general table tended greatly to good
morals as well as to public economy. But the Company's
servants, in spite of orders fi'om home, were continually .
drifting into more independent habits. The restraint of the
general table was irksome to them 3 they liked better to
receive ' diet money,* and to provide for themselves. The
Company thought that this was provocative of extravagance
and licentiousness, so they wrote out to Bengal, saying :
' We observe in your letter by the Recovery, you keep no
general table, which we don't like, for the following rea-
sons : Our factors and writers are thereby exposed to a

♦ MS. Records.

74 LORD CORNWALUS, [i70o^i8ou

loose way of living, to loss of time, and ill company, which,
by being at a general table, would be prevented 5 but busi-
ness is not so likely to be well minded, and they have spe-
cious pretences for their absence if found fault with. Besides,
when they are every day at meals, under the eye of their
superiors, they will be necessitated to observe a better de-
corum J and if any of them are careless, extravagant, and
otherwise blameworthy, they will be soon reclaimed, when
they know that they must ever}' day expect to hear of it
from you, the President and Council 5 and then we are sure

. we shall be at a less charge by a general table, if any toler-
able care be taken therein, than we are by making allow-
ances to each severally.' * The thrift of the Company was
sure to creep, sooner or later, into these admonitions 3 but
it is to their credit that we soon find them falling back
upon the moralities, for they go on to say : ' We have rea-
son to believe what is told us, that those allowances give
some of our servants the temptations, and, of consequence,
expose them to drunkenness and lasciviousness j and we
would take away the temptation, looking upon it as a certain

. rule, if they once lose their virtue, we have no reason long to
expect their fidelity. For all these reasons, we require you
to restore the general table 5 and if you can give us any
that you think have greater weight to the contrary, when
we hear them you shall know our minds in ftiture.* Then
the instruction proceeds in a right good paternal spirit:
' Our main danger in this is to remove all occasions from
our servants of debauchery, and being tainted by ill example,
which is very infectious to young people 5 also, to keep

♦ MS. Records.

1700—1800.] ADMONITIONS OF THE DIRECTORS. 75

them under a regular and virtuous course of living, and there-
by to have our own business better minded, and the interest
of the Company promoted. And to render this our design
more effectual, we direct that you, the President and Coun-
cil, do, at certain standing seasons, set apart a time to in
quire into the behaviour of all our factors and writers, of
the persons under whom they are 5 and, calling them sev-
erally before you, let them know the account you have of
them, and, as they deserve, either admonish or commend
them.* Then comes another practical remedy for licentious-
ness. It was thought as desirable that the younger Com-
pany's servants should lodge under a general roof as that
they should board at a common table : so the Company
issued a prohibition against promiscuous lying, or, as they
called it, laving y up and down in the town : 'We positively
direct that all our unmarried young peoiple do lodge in our
own factory, if there be accommodation for them, and not
lay up and down in the town, which exposes them to several
inconveniences.' Neither these rules nor these admonitions
appear to have had much effect 5 for the Company soon
afterwards were driven to prescribe a penalty for the infrac-
tion of their mandates. If any Company's servant proved
to be incorrigible, he was to be sent home. ' If any factor
or writer,* says the Court's general letter of the and of
February, 1712-13, ' proves not diligent, but idle or vicious,
send them home 5 don't let them stay to infect others 3 we
know no better way to deal with them.'

Meanwhile^ however, the President and Council of
Bengal contrived to give their masters some ' reasons that
have greater weight to the contrary,* in respect of the

76 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1700— 1800.

alleged advantages of the 'general table,' especially pro-
testing that it was by no means an economical institution ^
so the Court gave way, especially, they said, ' as in your
consultations you make it plain that we shall, in your
opinion, be great ♦ savers by the diet money.' ' Let us
find,' they add, ' you will all be faithfiil and diligent for
us, and not make our benefit always give place to yours, as
though the proverb was, " Sejf- — and then the Company,'' '
This was written in 1714-15. Some twelve or thirteen
years later, sad news came to England of the addiction of
the Company's servants to the vice of gambling. These
tidings greatly disquieted the souls of the worthy managers
of Leadenhall, who determined to check by stringent
measures the destructive practice. So they wrote out a
general letter, saying : ' We are greatly concerned to hear
that the mischievdus vice of gaming continues, and even
increases, among our covenant servants, fi^ee merchants,
and others, residing at our settlements in India, for great
sums of money, and that the women also are infected
therewith j by which . means many persons have been
ruined, as well on board ship as on shore. Of this there
are several flagrant instances. By Act of Parliament, all
gaming here above «^io is strictly prohibited, under severe
penalties. That we may do what in us lies to prevent the
evils which, sooner or later, generally attend all gamesters,
and fi-equently prove their ruin, we do hereby peremptorily
forbid all manner of gaming whatsoever, in any of our
setUements or elsewhere in India, to the amount of «^io,
or upwards ; and if any of our covenant servants, or others
in our employ — ^whether civil, maritime, or military, or

1700— i8oo.] GAMBLING IN THE SETTLEMENTS. 77

any free merchants under our -protection — shall have been
discovered to have played at any sort of game, for the
value of «^io sterling, or upwards, at a time, and be thereof
convicted before you by two creditable witnesses (which
witnesses we require that you shall be always ready to hear
and admit of them), such offender, be he who he will, and
in what station soever, shall, ipso facto, be sent home and
dismissed the Company's service by the first shipping, as
likewise all free merchants, and all women, married or
unmarried, whether belonging to our covenant servants, or
who are under our protection.' *

It is easy to drive a coach-and-four through such
prohibitory enactments as these; and in all probability,
therefore, they were found as dead letters. A man who
may play for £g 195. ' at a time * may win or lose a large
sum of money in the course of a night. For whatever the
intended meaning of che interdict may have been, the
actual prohibition seems only to have extended to the
staking of ^10, or upwards, on any one game. Any
difficulty on this score, however, does not seem to have
occurred to the Company, who regarded rather the obsta-
cles in the way of the detection of the offenders, and there-
fore offered a premium to those who would inform against
their comrades. ' We easily foresee,' they wrote, ' that the
reproach of being an informer may keep back persons who
may know of such gaming from discovering of it : to
prevent this, we direct and order that you enter into your
consultations a particular accoimt, from time to time, of
the persons who shall be proved guilty of such gaming '

* MS. Records.

78 LORD CORNWALLIS. [170&-1800.

[they were before ordered to be sent home], 'as also of
the accuser or accusers 3 and for the encouragement of
such accuser, if he be a covenant servant, we direct that
he shall have a year's standing allowed him in our service,
and be further entitled to our favour as a person inclined
to check this vile practice.* This was clearly an error,
and a very base one. If the Company were to have either
gamesters or informers in their service, I wpuld have given
them the former for choice. Did the Company think to
take away ' the reproach ' of betraying a friend and com-
panion by paying the betrayer for the dirty job ? Would
'a year's standing* wash him white? He, who would
take the forty pieces, would not only game but cheat at
cards or at dice.

But gaming was only one kind of extravagance of
which the Company's servants were, in the opinion of their
masters, guilty to a most reprehensible extent. There were
others which demanded suppression by the strong hand of
authority. The civilians were waxing proud, ostentatious,
and self-indulgent — keeping many servants, horses, and
equipages, in a faint attempt at Oriental pomp. Quiet
homely men were they in Leadenhall-street, and they
could not tolerate the airs of their factory servants. So,
in December, 1731, they wrote out to Bengal, saying, that
none the least of the complaints from that place were of
the 'extravagant way of living* common among their
servants. ' We can only recommend it very seriously,' they
said, ' to our President, that he shows a good example of
frugality, by keeping a decent retinue, such as formerly
was practised, for the dignity of his station, and not fall

r/oo-i8oo.] EXTRAVAGANCE OF THE SERVANTS, /g

•

iuco the foppery of having a sett of musick at his table,
and a coach-and-six^ with guards and running footmen^
as we are informed is now practised, not only by the Pre-
sident, but some of the inferior rank.' The sulcanizing
process, it appears, was akeady going on bravely j and I am
not quite sure that it was sound policy in Leadenhall-street
to endeavour to restrain it.

Perhaps, indeed, notwithstanding their thrift, there was
some glimmering perception in the minds of these city
merchants that pomp and parade might have its uses in
India, for they wrote out soon afterwards, not without
some logical confusion, saying: 'That a distinction and
decorum ought to be kept for the President and Council
we think it reasonable, and this we ourselves would encour-
age, but should be glad that this was brought down to the
old standard, when a President used to be satisfied with a
palanquin, and two men only went with arms before j and
in that time we don't find that our President had less
respect shown him by the natives than now. However,
as times are altered, and that it may be thought necessary
to make some more outward show than formerly, we first
recommend to you, if possible, that you bring it back to
the old standard, and exercise in every respect fhigality, as
well in outward show as in your private way of living.

If you should think it fit, by the alteration of

times, or any other reasons, to keep up the dignity and
honour of your employers by making some show when
you appear abroad, it is our positive order that none of you,
or any of our servants, shall exceed the rules we now lay
down, which are, that the President, at his own expense.

8o LORD CORNWALLIS. [1700— i8oc.

may make use of a coach-and-four, and each of the gentle-
men in council a coach-and-pair, and that any of our other
servants, and the free merchants imder our covenants who
think they can afford it, a single chaise or saddle-horse/
And, the better to enforce this rule, the President was
instructed to send home every year an exact list of every
person under him, and of the equipages and horses kept
by each, ' that we may judge whether such persons are fit
to be continued in our service/

Neither these admonitions nor these warnings had
much effect upon the Company's servants, who grew more
licentious and more troublesome as time advanced, hving
extravagant lives, and running into debt with native mer-
chants, 'so as to bring you under dependency to them.'
The Company were continually writing out to their Pre^
sidente to set a good example to their junior servants, and
to report their misdeeds. But the Presidents appear to
have done neither the one thing nor the other. So the
Company again wrote out, in language of grave remon-
strance to their servants. In the Court's general letter of
the 8th of January, 1752, they say: 'Much has been
reported of the great licentiousness which prevails in your
place [Bengal], which we do not choose particularly to
mention, as the same must be evident to every rational
mind. The evils resulting therefrom to those there and
to the Company cannot but be apparent, and it is high
time proper methods be applied for producing such a
reformation as comports with the laws of sound rehgion
and morality, which are in themselves inseparable. We
depend upon you who are principals in the management

1700— iSoa] THE CIVILIANS REBELLIOUS, 8i

to set a real good example^ and to influence others to follow
tlie same^ in such a manner as that virtue, decency, and
order be welt established, and thereby induce the natives
round you to entertain the same high opinion which they
formerly had of the English honour and integrity — a point
of the highest moment to us.' But these sermons were
worse than profitless 3 for instead of their producing any
reformatory effect upon the lives of the Company's serv-
ants, the rebellious civilians laughed at their masters, and
ridiculed their homilies outright. It would appear that
there were never wanting persons to inform the Directors
at home of what was going on in their distant settlements.
These were, probably, the ship-captains who brought home
the news of the factories, together with the merchandise of
the East, and probably ingratiated themselves with their em-
ployers by condemning the irregularities of their brethren.
At all eveiits, the Court were credibly informed of the
manner in which the letter last quoted was received m
Bengal : ' We are well assured,* they wrote out again, in
January, 17J4, 'that the paragraph in our letter of the 8th
of January, 1752, relating to the prevailing licentiousness of
your place, was received by many of our servants in superior
stations with the greatest contempt, and was the subject of
much indecent ridicule j but whatever turn you may give
to our admonitions — call it preaching, or what you please
— unless a stop is put to the present licentious career, we
can have no dependence on the integrity of our servants,
now or in future 5 for it is too melancholy a truth that the
younger class tread too closely upon the heels of their
superiors, and, as far as circumstances will admit, and even

VOL. I. 6

82 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1700— i8oa

farther, copy the bad examples which are continually
before their eyes.* It was plainly, the Directors continued,
no use to expostulate any further, so, as supreme masters,
they were determined to put forth their authority, and to
dictate commands which * all who value their continuance
in our service* were called upon to obey. I now give
these commands in their integrity. They illustrate very
forcibly the simplicity of the Directors of those days, who
appear readily to have believed that such instructions as
these would have a mighty effect upon the morals of their
servants :

* That the Governor and Council, and all the rest of our
servants, both civil and military, do constantly and regularly
attend the divine worship at church every Sunday, unless
prevented by sickness or some other reasonable cause, and
that all the common soldiers who are not on duty, or pre-
vented by sickness, be also obliged to attend.

' That the (Governor and Council do carefully attend to
the morals and manner of life of all our servants in general,
and reprove and admonish them when and whenever it shall
be found necessary.

^ That all our superior servants do avoid, as much as
their several situations will allow of it, an expensive man-
ner of living, and consider that, as the representatives of a
body of merchants, a decent frugality will be much more
in character.

* That you take particular care that our younger servants
do not launch into expenses beyond their incomes, espe-
cially upon their first arrival 5 and we here lay it down as a
standing and positive command^ that no writer be allowed

X700— x8oo.] SUMPTUAR Y REGULA TIONS. 89

to keep a palanquin^ horse^ or chaise^ during the term of
his writership.

' That you set apart one day in every quarter of the year,
and oftener if you find it necessary, to inquire into the
general conduct and behaviour of all our servants below the
Council, and enter the result thereof in your Diary for our
observation.'

The conquest of Bengal imparted a new aspect to the
character of the Company's service. Indeed, it may almost
be said that the Civil Service proper dates from that mo-
mentous epoch. Up to that point in the history of our
Indian Empire the Company's servants had been almost
exclusively merchants. Then they grew into administrators.
What were known as the * Company's affairs' had been
simply affairs of trade — buying and selling, the provision of
investments. But after this new compact with the Sou-
bahdar there was revenue to be collected, and justice to be
administered, and relations with native Princes to be estab-
lished. It was a great turning-point 5 and if the Company
had been wise in their generation, they would have looked
the position in the face, and placed their servants on an
entirely new footing with respect to their permitted sources
of emolument. Nearly a century and a half had passed
away since Sir Thomas Roe had recommended them to
give ' great wages, to the content ' of their servants 5 ' for
then you know what you part from,' but they had not
taken the hint. And even now, when they found that
they had emerged from the proprietorship of a few facto-
nes into the sovereignty of great provinces, they still could
not recognize the wisdom of detaching their servants from

84 LORD CORNWALLIS. [1700— i8oa

trade, and depriving them, by the grant of liberal salaries,
of all pretexts for receiving bribes from the natives of the
country. In 1758 they thought they were straining their
liberality by raising the pay of a writer to £\o per annum.
* We do hereby direct,* they wrote out to Bengal, * that
the future appointment to a writer for salary, diet money,
and all allowances whatever, be four hundred current
rupees per annunr., xrhich mark of our favour and attention,
properly attended to, must prevent their reflection on what
we shall further order in regard to them, as having any
other object or foimdation than their particular interest or
happiness.* They then referred to their letter of the 23rd
of January, 1754, the instructions contained in which they
were determined to enforce, * from a persuasion that the
indigence of our junior servants, which may too often have
been the effect of their vices and the imitation of their
seniors, hath not a little contributed to increase that load
of complaints which have been so strongly and repeatedly
urged by the Nabob in regard to the abuse of dusticks, a
practice we have ever disclaimed ; and are determined to
show in future the strongest marks of our resentment to
such as shall be giiilty of, and do most positively order and
direct (and will admit of no representation for your post-
poning the execution of it) that no writer whatsoever be
permitted to keep either palanquin, horse, or chaise during
his writership, on pain of being immediately dismissed the
service.*

In this despatch the Company spoke of ' the distressed
situation of our once-flourishing settlement of Fort William.*
But the settlement was flourishing as it had never flourished

1700— x8oo.] PILLAGING THE NATIVES, 85

before. The Company's servants had taken up a trade
beside which every other was poor and unremunerative.
They had become king-makers, and untold wealth was
flowing into their coffers. The English were now the
dominant race in Bengal, and there was nothing that they
could not do. For the first time they knew their power,
and they turned their knowledge to profitable account.
The feeble natives could not resist the white men, but they
could buy them. It was soon seen that they all had their
price. The situation was new to the Company's servants,
and it dazzled them, so that they could not, or they would
not, see right fi-om wrong. Large fortunes were made in
an incredibly short space of time. It was the blackest
period of all in the whole history of the Indian service.

There is nothing strange in the picture. The Com-
pany's servants were unaccustomed to power, and they did
not know how to exercise it with moderation. Between
the date of the conquest of Bengal and Clive's return to
Calcutta in 1765, there was more money made and more
wrong done by the Company's civilians than in any like
number of years twice told. But Clive went out again,
resolute to * cleanse the Augaean stable 5' and whilst he was
instituting great reforms, the honest Directors in Leaden-
hall-street were still maundering about the irregularities of
their younger servants. It always distressed them greatly
to think that their young writers were not so thrifty in
their habits or so regular in their lives as they might have
been 5 and they were continually exhorting their high
fimctionaries to bring the mischievous youngsters to account.
Send us home the names, they said, of those who will not

S6 LORD CORNWALUS, [1700—1800.

obey you. But Clive was sending home his lists at this
time, and they contained the names of men, not low down
in the roll of the Company's establishment, but up among
the great merchants. Still the Company kept to their
text 5 and, still solicitous for the morals of their young men,
wrote out to the Governor, in 1765, that all superior
servants were to lodge in the new fort so soon as accom-
modation could be provided, and not, as they did of old,
' to lay up and down in the town.* Of course Government
were no longer to make them * an allowance of house-
rent.* Although this was imperatively directed to be a
standing order, it does not appear to have been very strictly
obeyed 5 for it is certain that when John Shore went out
to India soon afterwards, he lodged, not in the fort, but in
the town of Calcutta.

The measures which were taken to check illicit gains
appear to have compelled some of the servants of the
Company to draw bills on their friends at home. When
news of this reached the Directors, they were greatly dis-
tressed, for they suspected that such as had not these re-
sources were getting into debt to their native Banyans, and
thus rendering themselves ' liable to be tempted to infidelity
in the offices they were trusted with.* But instead of de-
ducing from these things the inference that their servants
should have better pay, they still clung to the old idea of
the excessive extravagance of the writers, and again strenu-
ously insisted on the necessity of sumptuary regulations. It
was imperatively enjoined that no writer should keep a
palanquin unless ' absolutely necessary for the preservation
of health \ ' that no writer should keep • more than one

>•

X700— x8oo.] MEASURES OF LORD CUVE. 87

servant besides a cook j * that no writer should be permitted
to keep a horse without the express permission of the Go-
vernor j and that no writer should be permitted, either by him-
self or jointly with others, to keep a country-house. ^ With
respect to table liquors,' they added, ' we cannot pretend to
form regulations for them,' nor * with respect to general ex-
travagance in dress,' of which sad accounts had reached
home 5 but the Governor was to keep a watchful eye upon
them, and to see that they conformed to that system of
economy which had been so often prescribed.*

Lord Clive's cleansing mission to India did much to
put an end to the reign of the adventurers, who had no
connection with the graduated service of the Company.
Ever since the conquest of Bengal the cupidity of England
had been excited, and men of all kinds had gone forth with
letteis orintroduction in their pockets, and perhaps a clue
to some desperate job, by which they might enrich them-

♦ These sumptuary regulations were always a chronic source of
amusement to the Company's servants, who evaded them, and some-
times with a good deal of humour in the manner of evasion. For ex-
ample, at Madras, where the restrictions appear to have been greater
than at Calcutta, an order had gone forth against the use of umbrellas
as protections against the sun. These sunshades, principally made
of broad leaves or split bamboos, were called roundels, from their
shape. These being prohibited by name, the young writers had their
umbrellas made square, and set forth that, although they knew that
roundels were prohibited, there was nothing in orders against square-
dels. On another occasion, a regulation having gone forth against
the use of gold lace on the coats of the writers, a young civilian, when
brought up for infringing the law, and asked if he did not know the
regulation, said that he was aware of an order against gold lace^
but he did not think that it was binding I

88 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1700— i8oOi

selves in a year or two, and return to England as nabobs of
the real mushroom type.* These interlopers were in the
way of the regular service, whom they deprived of some of
the best pickings which the country afforded. A letter
from a Minister in England, or from an influential member

* The following anecdote, very illustrative of the history of the
adventurers of those days, was related by Macaulay, in his speech on
the second reading of the India Bill of 1 853 : * These were the sort of
men,* he said, *who took no office, but simply put the Governor-
General to- a species of ransom. They laid upon him a sort of tax —
what the Mahrattas call chout, and the Scotch black-mail ; that is,
the sum paid to a thief in consideration that he went away without
doing harm. There was a tradition in Calcutta, where the story was"
very circumstantially told and generally believed, that a man came out
with a strong letter of recommendation from one of the Ministers
during Lord Clive's second administration. Lord Clive saw that he
was not only unfit for, but would positively do harm in, any office, and
said in his peculiar way, "Well, chap, how much do you want?"
Not being accustomed to bespoken to so plainly, the man replied,
that he only hoped for some situation in which his services might be
useful. ** That is no answer, chap," said Lord Clive ; "how much
do you want ? Will one hundred thousand pounds do ? " The per-
son replied, that he should be delighted if by laborious service he
could obtain that competence. Lord Clive then wrote out an order
for the sum at once, and told the applicant tp leave India by the
ship he came in, and, once in England again, to remain there. I
think the story is very probable, and I also think that the people of
India ought to be grateful for the course Lord Clive pursued ; for
though he pillaged the people of Bengal to give this lucky adventurer
a large sum, yet the man himself, if he had received an appointment,
might both have pillaged them and misgoverned them as well.' I
have taken this passage, verbatim^ from Hansard ; but I believe that
the sum named should have been, not a hundred thousand pounds,
but ten thousand pounds. My own recollection of the speech — and
sitting under the gallery I heard it most distinctly — is, that Macaulay
used the words, * a lakh of rupees.*

tTOo— i8oa] INDIA ACT OF 1773. 89

of the Court of Directors, often stood in lieu of all covenants
and indentures. But, as a body, the latter were convinced
that these irregular appointments were injurious to their
interests 5 and in 1773, having expressed their satisfaction
that their settlement in Bengal had been ' put into a train
of reform,' wrote out that the next thing to be done was
' to revert to the old system, when the business of your
Presidency was principally performed by our own servants,
who then had knowledge of our investments, and every
other department of our concerns. You will, therefore, fill
the several offices with the writers and factors on your
establishment.* And fi*om that time the Company's own
servants had it pretty well to themselves.

But a far more powerfiil body of men than the Court
of Directors of the East India Company were now seriously
considering the character and conduct of the Company's
servants. The Houses of Parliament, instructed by the
King's Ministers, had begun to take heed of the dark his-
tories on which then a new light had been thrown, and
among other great reforms instituted by them they pro-
hibited all ftirther acceptance by the Company's or other
servants of presents fi-om the Princes or other inhabitants of
India. The famous Act of 1773 declared ' that, from and
after the first day of August, 1774, no person holding or
exercising any civil or military oflfice under the Crown or
the Company in the East Indies shall accept, receive, or
take, directly or indirectly, by himself or any other person
or persons on his behalf, or for his use or benefit, of and
firom any of the Indian Princes or powers, or their minis-
ters or agents, (or any of the natives of Asia), any present.

go LORD CORNWALLIS, [1700-1800.

gift, donation, gratuity, or reward.* On conviction of any
infraction of this law, the offender was to forfeit double the
value of the present, and to be amenable to deportation
from the country.*

The reforms introduced by Lord Clive, and the severe
orders of the Court of Directors, now backed by Parlia-
mentary enactments, reduced the primary advantages of
the service to a very low state. Mr Shore, who had then
been for some years in India, wrote to England complain-
ing that 'the road to opulence grows daily narrower.*
'The Court of Directors,*, he added, 'are actuated with
such a spirit of reformation and retrenchment, and are so
well seconded by Mr Hastings, that it seems the rescission
of all our remaining emoluments will alone suffice it. The
Company's service is, in fact, an employ not rendered very
desirable. Patience, perseverance, and hope are all I have
lefL' His pay as a writer, he tell us, was, when he first
entered the service, eight rupees, or less than a pound, a
month — B, statement which I do not know how to reconcile
with the Court's orders, quoted previously, fixing the allow-
ance of a writer at ^40 a year. That the young civilians
of that period, however, underwent considerable hardship,
may be learned both from Mr Shore*s Memoirs and from

♦ In 1784 these penalties were rescinded ; but the Act of 1793
made the demanding or receiving presents of any kind, even for the
use of the Company, a misdemeanor. In 1833 ^his was again modi-
fied, and the offence limited to the receipt of presents * for his own
use.' And so the matter stands at this time. Large quantities of
presents are received from the native Princes and chiefs ; but they
are thrown into a common store and sold, and from their proceeds re-
lum-presents are purchased to be given to the donors.

XTOO-iSoo.] TIMES OF WARREN HASTINGS, 91

those of Mr Forbes, who served the Company in Western
India. Most readers are familiar with the statement of the
latter gentleman, that he was often compelled to go to bed
before nightfall, because he could not afford the expense of
a candle.

If we are to believe Captain Joseph Price, who, about
the year 1780, wrote certain pamphlets on Indian affairs,
to which I have already alluded, the young civilians of that
period were, on the whole, very well conducted. * There
are, no doubt,' he says, ' vices in some constitutions which
no climate can control, and a warm one the least of any.
On this I shall say nothing more than that, in all societies,
some few individuals wiU run riot. Time, and time only,
is able to rein in some of our natural passions. But as for
the accidental ones of wine and gaming, if they are enjoyed
anywhere in moderation, and without gross abuse, it is in
the East Indies 5 for I never knew a young man guilty
of either who did well in the Company's service, for
they are by no means countenanced in such excesses by
men in power.' The logic of this must be admitted to
halt a little ; but, at all events, it shows that during the
government of Warren Hastings excesses of this kind were
discouraged by the higher servants of the Company. In
the next paragraph, however. Captain Price goes beyond
this, for he asserts that the young civilians were much
less profligate than youths of the same standing at home.
' The study of the country languages,' he says, ' and the
daily duties of the office to which they are, from their
first arrival, allotted, find employment enough for the
most active mind 5 and in Asia, as in all other parts of

99 LORD CORNWALLIS, I1700-1800.

the world, the man who best attends to the duties of his
station and situation succeeds best in life. But as to dis-
sipation^ and corruption of manners and morals^ a mer-
chant's or banker's clerk of twenty years old in London
IS further gone than the Company's servants in Asia during
their whole life.' It is right to add that this statement,
though of questionable accuracy, is confirmed by another
writer, Mr Robert Lindsay, of the Company's service, who
tells us that idleness rather than extravagance was the
besetting sin of the civilians at that time. * It was not then
the fashion,' says this writer, * to fatigue ourselves with hard
labour 5 there were abundance of native scribes in all the
offices to do the drudgery, and our taskmasters were not
strict. Under these circumstances, it was not a matter of
surprise if many of us were more idle than otherwise. I
followed the tide, and a merrier set could not be foxmd.
There was fortunately little or no dissipation amongst us.*
Elsewhere, Mr Lindsay says that ' the public business was
transacted by a few able individuals, and the yoxmger
servants had full leisure to amusa themselves.' *

And they had not only leisure to amuse themselves, it
would appear, but they had still leisure, and were allowed,
to enter into commercial speculations on their own accoimt.
Mr Lindsay had large dealings in salt, taking in a native
capitalist as his partner, * provided I would appear as the

• * A very good idea of the state of civilianism in India, during the
administration of Warren Hastings, may be derived from these auto-
biographical notes of the Hon. Robert Lindsay, which aie given'
in the third volume of that very entertaining work, the * Lives of the
Lindsays.'

t700— i8oo.] CIVIL SERVICE REFORM. 93

ostensible person.' By one fortunate speculation, or, as he
calls it, * well-timed energy,* he was enabled to pay off all
the debts he had contracted during a long residence in
Calcutta, and ' to put a few thousand rupees in his pocket.'
Encouraged by this venture, he launched, whilst a revenue
collector in the Dacca district, * into various speculations in
trade.* His pay was only £<po sl yesLT, so he * contem-
plated with dehght the wide field of commercial specula-
tion opening before him.* * And he soon afterwards
naively informs us, that from the ' conspicuous advantage
he derived from the great command of money to cany on
his commercial pursuits,* he dates the origin of the fortune
he acquired in the Company*s service.f

In this we see fairly reflected the state of the Company *s
Civil Service before the time of Comwallis's arrival in
India. The Honourable Robert Lindsay may be taken as
a good type of his order. He was an honourable, well-
meaning man, wise after his kind, and he only did what
was sanctioned by universal usage. For a civil servant of

* Among other speculations in which he engaged was ship-build-
ing ; but this does not appear to have been very successful. His
mother wrote out very pleasantly that she had no doubt he was a
very scientific ship-builder, but that she had one request to make of
jiim, which was that he would not come to England in a ship of his
own making.

t This sketch of the rise and progress of the Indian Civil Service
is printed, with certain alterations, from some papers which I con-
tributed, in 1 86 1, to BlackwoocPs Magazine, The information was
derived from old India House records

94 LORD CORNWALLIS, \vfib.

the Company, at that time, was a hybrid monster, half a
public functionary and half a private trader. If he had
attempted to live on his official salary, he must have starved,
or been eaten alive by rats and mosquitoes. ^*j*Thus cast
upon their own resources, the better men tradetl with their
employers* money 5 the worse grew rich by the more rapid
process of peculation and corruption. The India Bill of 1 784
prohibited private trade on the part of the Company's serv-
ants 5 * but they evaded the act by putting forward some native
underling or other person as the ostensible trader. All this
was to be deplored. But it was clearly impossible to create
a public service in India without paying the servants in pro-
portion to the risks which they incurred, and the incon-
veniences to which they were subjected. To Lord Com-
wallis this was so apparent that he could not wonder at the
' relaxed habits ' of the agents of Grovemment, and could
scarcely condemn what had its root deep down in an evil
system for which they were not responsible. There was
but one remedy for the evil, and that he determined at once
to apply. He was convinced that it would be a wise
economy in the end to place within the reach of the Com-
pany's servants such lawful and recognized gains as would
enable them to disregard the temptations and opportunities
which surrounded them. So he decreed that they should
receive high official salaries, and should be wholly cut oflF
from personal trade. ' I am sorry to say,' he wrote to Mr
Dundas at the Board of Control, * that I have every reason

* They were forbidden to * have any dealings or transactions, by
way of traffic or trade, at any place within any of the provinces in
India.'

1786—87.] CIVIL SERVICE REFORM 55

to believe that at present almost all the collectors are, undei
the name of some relation or friend, deeply engaged in
commerce, and by their influence as judges and collectors
of Adaulut^ they become the most dangerous enemies to
the Company's interests and the greatest oppressors of the
manufacturers. I hope you will approve of the additional
allowances and the commission that we have given to the
collectors, for without them it was absolutely impossible
that an honest man should acquire the most moderate com-
petency.' * And at a later period he wrote to the same
correspondent, with reference to the Company's civil
servants, ' There are some as honourable men as ever lived.
They have committed no fault but that of submitting to
the extortion of their superiors. They have no other means
of getting their bread. . . . I sincerely believe that, except-

* In another letter (addressed to the Court of Directors) he said :
« When you consider the situations of your servants in this country,
the very high responsibility now more particularly annexed to the
office of collector, the temptations of the situation, the incessant
labour of his office, and the zeal which must be exerted to promote
the prosperity of the revenues and country at large ; when, on the
other hand, you advert to the solemn restrictions imposed upon him
by the L^slature, as well as those in the public regulations and the
separate orders already noticed, absolutely precluding him from any
emolument whatever, excepting such as are publicly allowed, and
when you are further pleased to consider that, excepting instances of
extraordinary merit, your servants cannot in future expect to obtain
the office of a collector under a period of twelve years spent in your
service, we trust that we shall be found to have consulted your true
interests with every compatible attention to economy, and that you
will approve the allowances and commission fixed by us for your
servants in the Revenue Department.'

96 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1786—87.

ing Mr Charles Grant, there is not one person in the list
who would escape prosecution.*

To the earnest recommendations of the Governor-Ge-
neral— recommendations which, indeed, he had practically
anticipated — ^the Court of Directors gave their assent, but
it was a grudging one. They had great notions of econo-
my I but their economy was based upon the extravagant
principle of * penny-wise, pound-foolish/ They were slow
to comprehend the truth, that of all things in the world
that which is best worth paying for is good service, and
that even in its narrowest financial aspect it is wise and
prudent for the State to consider the prosperity of those
upon whom its own prosperity depends. So convinced
was Cornwallis of this, that he wrote to Dundas, that the
Company might advantageously save the salary of the Go-
vemor-Greneral if they would not give better pay to their
inferior servants, for that under the old system it would be
easy to find a man to take his place for nothing. ' If the
essence of the spirit of economy,* he said, ^ of the whole
Court of Directors could be collected, I am sure it would
fall very short of my earnest anxiety on that subject. But
I never can or shall think that it is good economy to put
men into places of the greatest confidence, where they have
it in their .power to make their fortune in a few months^
without giving them any salaries. If it is a maxim that no
Government can command honest services, and that pay
our servants as we please they will equally cheat, the sooner
that we leave this country the better. I am sure that, under
that supposition, I can be of no use, and my salary is so much
thrown away : nothing will be so easy as to find a Go-

X786— 87.] MEASURES OF REFORM. 97

▼eraor-Geueral of Beagal who will serve without salary.' *
In another letter, written at a later period, he said : ' I
nave been a most rigid economist in all cases where I thought
rigid economy was true economy. I abolished sinecure
places, put a stop to jobbing, agencies, and contracts, pre-
vented large sums being voted away in Council for trumped-
up charges, and have been unwearied in hunting out fraud
and abuse in every department. As a proof that I have
succeeded, you will see this year, what never happened \y\
fore, that our expenses have fallen short of our estimates.
But I shall never think it a wise measure in this country to
place men in great and responsible situations, where the
prosperity of our affairs must depend upon their exertions
as well as their integrity, without giving them the means,
in a certain number of years, of acquiring honestly and
openly a moderate fortune.*

But, do what he might in India, it was difficult to restrain
the tide of attempted jobbery, which was continually pouring
in from England. From all the high places at home — from
the King's Court, from the council-chamber of the King's
Ministers, from the Houses of Pariiament, from the lobbies
of the India House — solicitations on behalf of all sorts of
people kept streaming into Calcutta. Men and women of
rank and influence in London had been so long accustomed
to get rid of troublesome petitioners for place and patron-
age by sending them out to India with a letter of recom-
mendation in their pockets, and the plan on many occasions
had been found so successflil, that the evil habit was not
to be readily abandoned. To Cornwallis, who would not

* Cornwallis Correspondence. — Ross,
VOL. I. 7

98 LORD CORNWALLIS. [1786—87.

perpetrate a job to please the King himself, and who could
with difficulty find honourable employment for these ad-
venturers from England, all this was very distressing. His
correspondence bears the impression of the vexation which
it occasioned him. ' Lord Ailesbury (Queen's Chamber-
lain),' he wrote to his friend Lord Sydney, ' has greatly
distressed me by sending out a Mr Ritso, recommended by
the Queen 3 but I have too much at stake. I cannot de-
sert the only system that can save this country even for
sacred Majesty.' And again : ' I told you how Lord Ailes-
bury had distressed me by sending out Mr Ritso. He is
now writing in the Secretary's Office for two hundred or
two hundred and fifty rupees a month, and I do not see
the probability of my being able to give him anything bet-
ter, without deserving to be impeached. I am still perse-
cuted every day by people coming out with letters to me,
who either get into jail or starve in the foreign settlements.
For Gid's sake do all in your power to stop this madness.'
He was a very kind-hearted man, but the state of things
was so bad, and it was so necessary to arrest it, that he
wrote to the men himself who came begging to him for a
place, after this formula : ' If I was inclined to serve you,
it is wholly out of my power to do it, without a breach ot
my duty. I most earnestly advise you to think of return-
ing to England as soon as possible. After the ist of Janu-
ary next, I shall be under the necessity of sending you
thither.* If anything in the world could have arrested the
evil, this would have done it. The remedy was severe, but
it was effectual.

The Company, I am afraid, were not much better than

1786—87.] POLITICAL JOBBERY. 99

the Court. The Directors were not disinclined to perpe-
trate little private jobs of their own. But to applications
from Leadenhall-street the Govemor-Greneral sent back only
threats of resignation. ' I must beg leave/ he wrote to a
member of the Direction, 'to observe that I do not con-
ceive any man can have behaved with more proper respect
to the Court of Directors than I have done ever since I
have held my present station j but I must freely acknow-
ledge that before I accepted the arduous task of governing
this country, I did understand tliat the practice of naming
persons from England to succeed to offices of great trust
and importance to the public welfare in this country, with-
out either knowing or regarding whether such persons were
in any degree qualified for such offices, was entirely done
away. If, unfortunately, so pernicious a system should be
again revived, I should feel myself obliged to request that
some other person might immediately take from me the
responsibility of governing these extensive dominions, that
I might preserve my own character, and not be a witness
to the ruin of the interests of my country.' * So the Com-

* It does not appear either that the activity of Party Politics in
the direction of rank jobbery was less notorious than that of the Court
or the Company. Perhaps the rankest jobs ever attempted, and in
some measure perpetrated, were those by which Mr Edmund Burke's
brother William was to enrich himself. It was said, and not without
some show of probability, that Warren Hastings's neglect of William
Burke added much to the rancour, if it did not originate the enmity,
of his assailants. It appears that Lord Rawdon, who was a good
deal behind the scenes, thought it advisable, in the interests of friend-
ship, to give Comwallis a hint of this. Nothing daunted, however,
the Governor- General replied : * I am much obliged to you for your
friendly hint about William Burke. Although I may perhaps suffer

loo LORD CORNWALLIS. [1786-87.

pany*s proteges were sent away as empty-handed as those
who came from the King and Queen.

A consistent perseverance in a course of this kind^
though at the outset it may alarm and irritate, will in the
end secure general respect and admiration, and extract
unwilling tributes of applause even from those whose
immediate interests have been injuriously affected by it.
The correspondence of Mr Shore in the years 1786-87
indicates that the new Governor- (General soon lived down

a little in the opinion of the great personage to whom you allude, for
my predilection for what I think great qualities and eminent services
to his country in Mr Pitt, I should on all other points most earnestly
wish to give every proof of the most sincere attachment and anxious
desire to do what I should have every reason to believe would be
agreeable to him. I have, ever since I have been in India, treated
William Burke with the greatest personal attention ; and I have done
little favours, such as ensigncies in the King's service, &c., to his
friends. But it is impossible for me to serve him essentially — that is,
put large sums of money into his pocket, without a gross violation of
my public duty, and doing acts for which I should deserve to be im-
peached. He has himself suggested to me two modes of serving
him, which I will explain to you. The first is, that he should re-
ceive money here, and be allowed to manage the remittances for the
payment of the King's troops at Madras and Bombay. I foimd him
in possession of such a remittance to Madras when I first arrived,
which was given to him by Macpherson (in order to pay his court to
Edmund Burke), and fixed at the scandalous exchange of 410 Arcot
rupees for 100 pagodas, by what he, Macpherson, called a committee
of respectable merchants, consisting of William Burke himself (the
Company's Military Paymaster-General), an intimate friend of
Burke's, and a principal proprietor in the bank through which he

remitted his money, and poor ^ who, I believe, to this day

scarcely knows the difference of value between a rupee and a shil-
ling.'

k

1786—87.] STATE OF THE ARMY, loi

the unpopularity which attended his first efforts to purify
the administration. ' I live upon the happiest terms with
Lord Comwallis/ wrote the Councillor in November, 1786.
' I love and esteem his character, which is what the world
allows it. The honesty of his principles is inflexible ; he
is manly, affable, and good-natured ; of an excellent judg-
ment J and he has a degree of application to business beyond
what you would suppose. I could not be happier with any
man. His health is sound 5 for he has not had an hour's
indisposition since first I saw him. If the state of affairs
would allow him to be popular, which he is most eminently
at present, no Grovemor would ever enjoy a greater share
of popularity. . . . Natives and Europeans universally ex-
claim that Lord Comwallis*s arrival has saved the country.'
And again, writing a few months afterwards to Warren
Hastings, he said : ' The respect, esteem, and regard which
I have for Lord Cornwallis might subject my opinion of
his government to a suspicion of partiality. Yet I cannot
avoid mentioning that it has acquired the character of
vigour, consistency, and dignity. The system of patronage
which you so justly reprobated, and which you always
found so grievous a tax, has been entirely subverted. The
members of Government, relieved from the torture of
private solicitations, have more time to attend to their
public duties 5 and the expenses of Government are kept
within their established bounds. On these principles, I
acknowledge it difficult to gratify my wishes with respect
to my own friends, or those who, from recommendations,
have claims upon me 3 and I cannot expect to escape re-

I02 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1787.

preaches for a conduct which the interest of the Company
renders indispensable. With Lord Cornwallis I have had
the happiness to live constantly on terms of the most
intimate confidence, and on this account, as well as by a
knowledge of his character, I am precluded from making
any solicitations but such as are warranted by the strictest
propriety. You will learn from others how well his time
is regulated, and of his unremitted application to business.

His situation was uncomfortable on our arrival 5

he now receives the respect due to his zeal, integrity, and
indefatigable application.* *

In August, 1787, Lord Cornwallis started on a tour in
the provinces — eager to see for himself the state of the
country and the progress of the administration, and to
inspect the troops under his command. Holding, as he
did, the double office of Governor-Greneral and Com-
mander-in-Chief, and his natural tastes, no less than his
antecedent experiences, inclining him towards military
rather than civil affairs, he had from the first taken into
his consideration the condition of the army, which was at
that time not very encouraging. ' I am now going up the
river to visit the military stations,* he wrote to his friend

* Life of Lord Teignmouth^ by his Son. — In another letter, written
in 1789, the same writer said : * The task upon which Lord Corn-
wallis and myself embarked was reformation and improvement. We
had inveterate prejudices and long-confirmed habits to encounter. To
serve our constituents, it was necessary to retrench the emoluments of
individuals, and to introduce system and regularity where all before
was disorder and misrule.'

1787- J STATE OF THE ARMY. 103

Colonel Fox, with whom he had attended more than one
review of the Prussian Army. ' The Company's Europeans
are not exactly like what we saw two years ago. On the
whole, everything goes on in this country as well as I could
reasonably expect. I have made great and essential re-
forms, and, I think, without unpopularity. Bad as the
evil was, I think the abuses of the army were the greatest,
not one of which Sloper^ had attempted to correct.' He
wrote this on board his pinnace working up the river. It
was a propitious season for clearing off arrears of private
correspondence 3 and amongst others to whom he wrote,
as the government party tracked up the Ganges, was his
old friend Lord Shelburne, now Lord Lansdowne, to whom
he said : ' As I must lay my coming to India to your door,
and as you are consequently in a great degree responsible
for my conduct, I think it fair to tell you that I flatter
myself I have not yet disgraced you. I can safely say that

* General Sloper had been sent out as Commander-in-Chief to
Bengal before the appointment of Lord Comwallis, and had been
superseded by that nobleman. He had been tried in the balance,
and found wanting. He had exhibited in his conduct an almost un-
exampled aptitude for jobbery. On his supersession, he went home,
and was received with open arms by the Prince of Wales. A con-
temporary journalist says : * The reception of General Sloper by the
Prince of Wales was flattering to the General beyond conception.
The Prince met him in Pall-Mall, as the General was going into
I-iondon. He rode up, stopped the chaise himself, shook the General
by the hand, and seemed overjoyed to see him ; and in e\ery place
where they have met since, his Royal Highness has paid him the most
pointed and marked attention.' No one, after reading this, will be
surprised to learn that Lord Comwallis had the worst possible opinion
of him.

I04 LORD CORNWALUS. [1787.

I have not been idle 5 I have selected the ablest and
honestest men in the different departments for my advisers,
and I am not conscious that I have in any one instance
sacrificed the public good to any private consideration.

I have already told you that I had patronized

Fonbelle -, I have likewise brought forward the two Kenne-
ways, who are both very deserving men 5 the soldier is my
aide-de-camp, the other I have put into the Board of Trade,

where he is rendering most essential services I am

now going to visit the Upper Provinces and the stations of
the army, which is, I am sorry to say, still in a most
wretched condition, almost, indeed, without subordina-
tion.' *

In those days travelling in India was slow and tedious.
The river was full after the rains, and everything was in
his favour 5 but it was held to be a great achievement that
he reached Benares on the 29th of August, * in the course
of a month from the day on which he left the Presidency ' f

* * Lord Comwallis is gone up the country to review the military
stations, and has left Stuart and myself to go on with the business.
.... What I feel most is the distress of numbers with whom I am
connected. The former extravagance of the service has produced
this consequence. . . . The principles upon which we act will make
me more enemies than friends ; but how can I help it ? There is no
serving God and Mammon.' — yohn Shore to H, I. Chandler^
August 3, 1787. Life of Lord Teignmouth, by his Son.

t * By the last accounts received from some of the Right Honour-
able the Governor- General's suite, we have the pleasure to announce
his Lordship's arrival at Benares on the 29th ultimo. His Lordship
has had a very favourable passage, as, including the several days he
has stopped at different settlements, he will have got to Benares in

X787.] DESIGNS OF TIPPOO. 105

— a distance now accomplished in twenty-four hours. In
the middle of the following month he was at Allahabad,
He visited Futtehgarh, Cawnpore, and other principal
stations^ where he inspected the troops in cantonments,
and formed an opinion not very favourable to any part of
the Company's establishment^ except the Artillery. But
if the Commander-in-Chief was active at this time, the
Grovemor-Greneral was thoughtful. For as he proceeded
up the country, vague rumours of hostile designs on the
part of the great Mahomedan usurper of Mj^ore came to
him from Southern India. They greatly disquieted him.
He was a soldier, right soldierly 5 but he had lived so much
in the camp, he had seen so much of the stern realities
of actual warfare, that his desires were all for. peace.
Experience has since shown that the soldier-statesmen of
India have ever been more moderate in counsel, and more
forbearing in act, than her civil rulers. Lord Comwallis
saw cleaily that there was a great work before him, which
war would disastrously interrupt ; but, ' equal to either
fortune,' he began to meditate hostile contingencies, and
to turn his visit to the provinces to the best account. On
the jth of September, 1787, he wrote, from Chunar, to
Mr Stuart, senior member of his council : ' I wish, with
all my soul, that my apprehensions could be quiet respect-
ing the Carnatic. Should the worst happen, and Tippoo
actually break with us, I think it may prove ultimately
fortunate that I am at present in this part of the country.
I can take immediate measures to endeavour to form a

the course of a month from the day he left the Presidency.* — Calcutta
Gazette^ Sept, 6j 1787.

xo6 LORD CORNWALLIS. [1787

close connection with the different chiefe of the Mahrattas,
and to incite them to attack Tippoo on their side to recover
the territories that he and his father had wrested from
them during their internal dissensions. Every other means
must likewise be taken to carry on the war against him
with the utmost vigour, and to provide against any foreign
interference.* On the 15th of October he wrote to Mr
Shore : ' I lose no time in assuring you and Mr Stuart that
I most perfectly approve of your having resolved to sup-
port the declaration of the Madras Government, and of its
being our determination to protect the Rajah of Travan-
core as one of our allies. If it will give you the smallest
satisfaction, you may put my concurrence on record.

We must, no doubt, make every preparation in

our power It is impossible to enter into particulars,

until we are acquainted with the manner in which Tippoo
means to carry his designs into execution.' A month later,
he wrote to Mr Dundas in England, saying: 'There
appears such a jealousy and coldness in the disposition of
the Mahrattas towards us, that I do not flatter myself, in
the event of a breach with Tippoo, that we could derive
any immediate assistance from them. The timidity of the
Nizam, and the wretched state of his army and his country,
do not render his intrigues with the French and Tippoo
very formidable, and I think they may alarm the jealousy
of the Poonah Ministry, and welcome them more readily
to take part with us.*

He was then sailing down the river, on his return jour-
ney to Calcutta. Among the other duties which he had
imposed upon himself, was a visit to Oude, then, and tor

1787-] DISORDERED STATE OF OUDE. toy

years afterwards, in a state of disorder, aggravated by the
intense jobbery of English adventurers, sometimes with
the stamp of the Company upon them, who entangled the
unfortunate Newab-Wuzeer in half-fraudulent pecuniary
transactions, and then endeavoured to obtain the aid of the
sword of Government to cut the Gordian knot of the com-
plications they had adroitly contrived for their own advan-
tage. This was not the only evil. The connection between
the Company's Government and the Newab was one which
was certain, in the end, to ingulf him and his people in
ruin. Lord Cornwallis brought a clear unbiased judgment
to bear upon the past history of Oude j and he could not
help sympathizing with the distressed condition of the ruler
of that fair province. ' I was received at Allahabad, ' he
wrote to the Court of Directors, ' and attended to Lucknow,
by the Vizier and his Ministers with every mark of friend-
ship and respect. I cannot, however, express how much I
was concerned during my short residence at his capital, and
my progress through his dominions, to be witness to the
disordered state of his finances and government, and of the
desolated appearance of the country. The evils were too
alarming to admit of palliation, and I thought it my duty
to exhort him in the most friendly manner to endeavour to
apply effectual remedies to them.* And then, after some
further observations on the disorganization of that unhappy
province, he said, with the unflinching sincerity which dis-
tinguished all his utterances, ' I shall avoid making any re-
marks upon the original grounds, or supposed right, which
induced us to interfere in the details of that unfortunate
country, and shall only say that I am afraid it has done us

Km

io8 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1787.

no credit in Hindostan | but that the imperfect manner in
which we did or couid interfere could hardly fail of being
attended with the consequences that have been experienced
— that of giving constant disgust and dissatisfaction to the
Vizier, without producing a shadow of benefit or relief to
the body of the inhabitants/ He was the first, indeed, to
hit that great glaring blot, which afterwards was discerned
for more than half a century, and was the source of all
kinds of protests, remonstrances, and menaces, but which at
last could be removed only by the sharp knife of annexation.
Early in December Lord Cornwallis was again in Cal-
cutta. ' I was so fortunate,* he wrote to the Duke of York,
on the loth of that month, ' in wind and weather, that I
completed my expedition, during which, by land and water,
I travelled above two-and-twenty hundred miles in less than
four months, without omitting any material object of my
tour, civil or military,* He had brought back with him,
from this tour of inspection, a very high estimate of the
military qualities of the Company's Sepoys, but the worst
possible opinion of their Europeans. ' A brigade of our
Sepoys,* he said, ' would easily make anybody Emperor of
Hindostan.* *The appearance of the native troops,' he
added, * gave me the greatest satisfaction ; some of the
battalions were perfectly well trained, and there was a spirit
of emulation among the officers, and an attention in the
men, which leaves me but little room to doubt that they
will soon be brought to a great pitch of discipline . . . . j
but the Company's Europeans are such miserable Vretches
that I am ashamed to acknowledge them for countrymen/
To any one considering the manner in which the Company's

1787.] STATE OF THE ARMY., 109

regiments were recruited, there could be nothing surprising
in this. The refuse of the streets was swept up and
shovelled at once into the ships. Embarked as rabble, they
were expected to land as soldiers. No experiment could
be more hopeless. Yet it was clear to Lord Comwallis thac
the permanence of our Indian Empire depended upon its
defence by a fixed establishment of well-ordered European
troops. ' I think it must be universally admitted,* he said,
' that without a large and well-regulated body of Europeans
our hold of these valuable dominions must be very insecure.
It cannot be expected that even the best of treatment would
constantly conciliate the willing obedience of so vast a body
of people, differing from ourselves in almost every circum-
stance of laws, religion, and customs j and oppressions of
individuals, errors of government, and several other unfore-
seen causes, will, no doubt, arouse an inclination to revolt.
On such occasions it would not be wise to place great de-
pendence upon their countrymen, who compose the native
regiments, to secure their subjection.* He wrote this, in a
strongly-worded letter, to the Court of Directors, telling
them that it was absolutely necessary, for the correction of
tliis evil, that a better system of recruiting in England
should be established, and that the officers of the Company's
Europeans should be permitted to rank equally, according
to the dates of their commissions, with those of his Majes-
ty's troops. He saw that the depressed state of the Com-
pany's officers at that time was most injurious to the public
interests, and that nothing could be more fatal to the gen-
eral efficiency of the army than the 'jealousies subsisting
between the two services.' ' I recommend,' he wrote, to

no LORD CORNWALLIS, [1787—88.

the Court, n another letter, ' that they may be put, as
nearly as possible, on a footing of equality in every respect,
whenever they may happen to be employed together on the
same service.*

Whilst these recommendations were travelling to Eng-
land, Lord Cornwallis, at the head-quarters of his govern-
ment, was assiduously superintending the details of its
internal administration. There was still much to be done
in the way of what was called ' the correction of abuses /
and in this he had a zealous and an active fellow-labourer
in Mr Shore. It was a happy circumstance that at this
time all immediate apprehensions of a war with Tippoo
had passed away with the old year. On the 7th of January,
Cornwallis wrote to England, saying : ' Our alarm from
Tippoo's preparations has ceased, and there is no reason to
believe from Greneral Conway's* conduct that he has any de-
sire to foment disturbances to promote a war in this country.
. . . No man can be more seriously interested in the con-
tinuance Df peace than myself 5 we have everything to lose,
and nothing to gain, by war 3 and a peace for these next
three years will enable me to put this country into such a
state, that it will be a difficult task even for a bad successor
to hurt it materially.* ' If, however,* he wrote a few days
afterwards, ' the politics of Europe should embroil us with
the French, I lay my accoimt that Tippoo will be ready at
the shortest notice to act in concert with them against the
Carnatic* It was therefore necessary to make quiet pre-

* General Conway, a French officer of Irish extraction, was then
Governor of Pondicheny.

1788— 89-] INTERNAL ADMINISTRATION iii

parations for the too probable contingency of war. Buf.
there was abundant time for the business of administrative
details, and in the years 1788-89 Lord Cornwallis assidu-
ously applied himself to them, eager to reform altogether
the revenue and judicial systems of the country. In this
great work of amelioration he had,^on all questions of
land-tenure, the advice and assistance of Mr Shore. In
matters connected with the administration of justice, and
generally with the law or regulations of the British settle-
ments, he was guided primarily by the advice of Mr Greorge
Barlow,* one of the Government secretaries, and one of
the ablest and most promising members of the Company's
Civil Service. Cornwallis had from the first discerned
Barlow's great merits, and had placed unbounded confi-
dence in him. With the exception, perhaps, of Mr Charles
Grant, whom to know was to honour, and Mr Jonathan
Duncan, who was rising into eminence as an administrator,
mainly by the force of an overflowing humanity and an
honesty and simplicity of character rarely surpassed, there
was no man in the Company's service of whom Lord Corn-
wallis entertained a higher opinion than of Greorge Barlow.
And it may be added that, with the exception of the
members of his own ' family,' or staff, there was no man
for whom he felt a warmer affection. Barlow worked
with all his might at the elaboration of a new Code of
Regulations. And there was another man from whom,
in legislative difficulties, the Governor- General was fain to

• Afterwards Sir George Hilaro Barlow, Governor-General ad
interim^ and subsequently Governor of Madras.

Ha LORD CORNWALUS, [1788—89-

apply for advice and assistance — a man whose name is very
dear to literature and to learning, the accomplished Sir
William Jones.

I do not purpose, at this point of the narrative, to write
in detail of the administrative reforms which were insti-
tuted by the Government of Lord Cornwallis. It is enough '
to say that these two years were spent by him in hard,
continuous work, not unenlivened by the exercise of those
social amenities which are among the duties, as they are
among the privileges, of the Chief of the Government of
India. He had it very much at heart to improve the
social morality of the English in India 5 for though very
much better than it had been some years before, it was,
notwithstanding the assertions of Captain Price and Mr
Lindsay, considerably in want of reform. The -narrow
limits of his residence, as I have before observed, compelled
him to entertain the society of Calcutta in one of its public
buildings. The newspapers of the day contain frequent
notices of Lord Cornwallis' s banquets and balls.* It may

* Take the following (from a Calcutta newspaper), drawn from
Mr Seton Karr's volume, as an example of Comwallis's hospitality :
* A very large and respectable company, in consequence of the invita-
tion given by the Right Honourable the Governor-General, assembled
on Tuesday (New Year's Day) at the Old Court House, where an
elegant dinner was prepared. The toasts were, as usual, echoed from
the cannon's mouth, and merited this distinction from their loyalty and
patriotism. In the evemng the ball exhibited a circle less extensive^
but equally brilliant and beautiful, with that which graced the enter-
tainment in honour of the King's birthday. Lady Cliambers and
Colonel Pearse danced the first minuet, and the succeeding ones con-
tinued till about half-after eleven o'clock, when the supper-tables
presented every requisite to gratify the most refined epicurean. The

1787-89.] IMPROVEMENT IN SOCIAL MORALITY, 113

be gathered from a variety of contemporary sources, that»
though greatly respected as one who had the true noble-
man stamp upon him, he was very popular in the settlement.
For he was one who ever maintained the dignity of his
station, without personal arrogance or exclusiveness 5 and
who rendered his own good example more potential for
good by the kindly consideration with which he treated
his inferiors. The kindness of his heart and the courtesy
of his manners compelled his countrymen to regard him
with equal affection and respect.

And year after year — it might not untruthfully be said,
month after month — a progressive improvement was ob-
servable in the morality of English residents in Bengal,
which was soon communicated to the other presidencies.
One characteristic illustration of this is worthy of notice.
At the Calcutta balls, before the coming of Lord Corn-
wallis, there had seldom been much, if any, dancing after
supper. The gentlemen-dancers were commonly too far
gone in drink to venture upon any experiments of activity
demanding the preservation of the perpendicular. But,
when Lord Cornwallis set his mark on Anglo-Indian
society, all this was changed. The Indian journals re-
marked that many ^ young bloods,* who had before
remained at the supper-table, returned to the dancing-
room, and the ladies had all proper respect. At the same
time there was a manifest diminution of gambling; and as

ladies soon resumed the pleasures of the dance, arid knit the rural
braid, in emulation of the poet's sister graces, till four in the mom.
ing, while some disciples of the jolly god of wine testified their satis-
faction in paeans of exultation.' — January^ 1788.
V4DL. I. 8

114 LORD CORNWALLIS, [178^

necessary results of less drink and less play, duelling and
suicide ceased to furnish the ghastly incidents of the pre-
ceding years.*

The personal habits of Lord Cornwallis were at all
times very simple. He was not at all addicted to official
display, and perhaps on the whole, in his daily life, fell
somewhat short of the outer stateliness which should environ
the position of a Governor-General. He was fond of horse-
exercise, and he had a partiality for high-trotting horses,
perhaps because he was sensible that it would profit him to
check his natural tendency to obesity. His companion in
these rides was commonly his dear friend and cherished
associate. Colonel Ross, whose society was a continual
solace to him. Between the morning and the evening
rides he worked hard. He told his son that it was all
clockwork. * My life at Calcutta,' he wrote, in January,
1789, to Lord Brome, ' is perfect clockwork. I get on
horseback just as the dawn of day begins to appear, ride on

* An English clergyman named Tennant, who wrote a book
about India under the title of * Indian Recreations,' speaking of the
improvements in the social morality of the English in India at the
end of the last century, says : * A reformation, highly commendable,
has been effected, partly from necessity, but more by the example of
a late Governor- General, whose elevated rank and noble birth gave
him in a great measure the guidance of fashion. R^^lar hours
and sobriety of conduct became as decidedly the test of a man of
fashion as they were formerly of irregularity.' (The writer means to
say * as irregularity formerly was.') * Thousands owe their lives, and
many more their health, to this change, which had neither been
reckoned on, nor even foreseen, by those who introduced it.' I
have not the least doubt, however, that Lord Cornwallis clearly
foresaw it.

x/ij.] PROSPECTS OF WAR. xis

II. Ill f

the same road and the same distance^ pass the whole fore-
noon after my return from riding in doing business, and
almost the same exactly before sunset, then write or read
over letters or papers of business for two hours, sit down at
nine, with two or three officers of my family, to some fruit
and a biscuit, and go to bed soon after the clock strikes
ten, I don't think the greatest sap at Eton can lead a
duller life than this.*

But the dulness was not to continue much longer.
Already were there ominous mutterings of a coming storm.
The peace which had been so long threatened was now
about to be broken by the unscrupulous conduct of
Tippoo Sultan of Mysore, who was eager. to swallow up
the territories of our faithful ally, the Rajah of the Tra van-
core. This was not to be borne. There was no difference
of opinion in the council-chamber of Calcutta. The
honour and the safety of the British empire in India alike
demanded that we should resort to arms. But, unfor-
tunately, there was at that time a very feeble state of
government at Madras. Mr Holland, though continually
warned that war was not merely probable, but inevitable,
had done nothing to prepare for it. Lord Cornwallis
knew that in such an emergency he was not to be trusted,
so he determined to proceed to Madras, and take charge

of the civil government and the command of the army.

*

But, before he was able to execute this design, he received
intelligence that his friend Greneral Medows had been
appointed Governor and Commander-in-Chief at Madras.
The tidings were received by Lord Cornwallis with
mingled emotions of gratification and regret. He rejoiced

xi6 LORD CORNWALLIS, [17891

that his old friend Medows was coming to the Coast, but
he could not help being sorry that there was no longer a
laudable pretext for taking personal command of the
army which was about to march into Mysore. His sen-
timents have been so clearly recorded in an official minute
which he wrote on receiving intelligence of the appoint-
ment of General Medows, that I cannot do better than
transcribe his words. After speaking of the deplorable
state of ♦he Madras Government, he proceeded to say :
* Under the impressions which I have described, I thought
myself called upon by a sense of duty to the Company, as
well as by an attention to the general interests of my
country, to stand forth and endeavour to avert the misfor-
tunes with which negligence and misconduct, or jealousies
between the civil and military departments, might be
attended. With that view, and upon the ground of state
necessity, it was my intention to take the responsibility
of an irregular measure upon myself, and to propose that
the Board should invest me with full powers to take a
temporary charge of the civil and military affairs at the
Presidency of Fort St George, by exercising the functions
of Governor as well as those of Commander-in-Chief.

It is, however, with great satisfaction that I

congratulate the Board on the arrival, in the mean time,
of the advices by the Vestal frigate, by which we have
been informed that the commission appointing Greneral
Medows to be Governor of Fort St George was on board
that vessel, and as the Vestal proceeded from Agengo to
Bombay on the 3rd ultimo, there is every reason to hope
that he will be able to take charge of the Governmenl

1790.] PREPARATIONS FOR WAR. 117

before, or at least as soon as, it would have been possible
for me to have reached Madras. The grounds upon which
I formed vaj first resolution are, therefore, in a great
measure or entirely done away. For, as it would have been
incompatible with the station which I hold in this country
to have rendered myself in any way subordinate to the
Government of Madras, and as General Medows is a man
of acknowledged ability and character, and regularly in-
vested by the Court of Directors with the offices of
Governor and Commander-in-Chief of the Presidency of
Fort St George, I will not venture to say that, by relin-
quishing the immediate direction of the supreme govern-
ment after a knowledge of the appointment of General
Medows, I should not be justly exposed to blame and
censure for executing a determination which had been
made a few days before under the belief of the existence
of different circumstances.*

In a private letter to his brother, the Bishop of Lich-
field, the Governor-General expressed clearly the sentiments
with which he regarded the concession to General Medows
of the command of the army in the field. ' I wish,' he
wrote, ' it (the news of Medows's transfer to Madras) had
arrived either three months sooner or three months later j
in the first case, I believe that we should have had no war,
for I am convinced that Tippoo was encouraged by the
weakness and corruption of Mr Holland's government ;
and, in the second, without any disparagement to Medows,
whose character and abilities I highly respect, I think I
could, for a time, have conducted the civil and military
business of the Carnatic with ipore ease and advantage thai?

ii8 LORD CORNWALUS. [1790.

he could, from the greater experience I hav6 had in the
general affairs of India. I must now be satisfied with
being Medows's commissary, to furnish him with men,
money, and stores j to get no share of credit if things go
well, and a large portion of blame if they do not succeed.
All this I felt severely, but I could not think it justifiable
to leave my own government in order to supersede such a
man as Medows.* And then, after speaking of his own
private affairs, he gave utterance to the very natural lament
of the successful administrator, who sees all the great
structure of his financial reforms swept away by a sudden
tempest : ^ It is a melancholy task to write all this, and to
see all the effects of my economy and the regulation of
the finances, which cost me so much labour, destroyed in a
few months. But I am pretty well inured to the crosses
and vexations of this world, and so long as my conscience
does not reproach me with any blame, I have fortitude
enough to bear up against themi.' *

I must pause here to devote a few sentences to the
brave and noble-hearted man to whom Cornwallis was
now prepared to delegate the command of the army of
Mysore. He was one of the most chivalrous of soldiers,
and the most generous and gentle of men. He had served
with distinction in the American war, and had built up
a character in the eyes of his comrades, in which a mascu-
line courage, almost reckless in its hardihood, was not less
conspicuous than a womanly kindness of heart and tender-
* Cornwallis Correspondence. — Ross,

X790w] GENERAL MEDOWS. 119

ness of manner. He was so much beloved by the soldiery,
that there was not a man who, having once served under
him, would not have followed him delightedly all over
the world. When he was first ordered to America, having
been appointed to a new regiment, he received permission
to take as many men from his old corps as might volunteer
to accompany him. Accordingly, he drew up the regiment
in line, and, after a few words of explanation, stepped on
one side, and exclaimed, ' Let all, who choose to go with
me, come on this side.* The whole regiment to a man
accepted the mvitation j the corps went over bodily to the
spot on which their beloved commander was standing — a
proof of their attachment which affected so sensibly his
warm heart that he burst into tears.'

On service, wherever danger was to be found, Medows
was sure to be in the thick of it. In the battle of Brandy-
wine, when leading on his grenadiers to the charge, with
orders to reserve their fire, he received in the sword-arm,
just above the elbow, a shot, which went out at his back j
and, falling from his horse, he broke his collar-bone on the
other side. Major Harris* found him in this situation
almost insensible 3 but the well-known voice of his friend
seemed to restore himj he tried to extend a hand, but
neither was at his command. ^ It's hard, Harris,' he said 5
but presently added, ' it's lucky poor Fanny (his wife) does
not know this.'

Another anecdote, still more characteristic, may be given
in the words of Mr Lushington, the biographer of Lord
Harris : ^ The Greneral (Medows), acting upon that principle

* Afterwards General Lord Harris.

120 LORD CORNWALUS. ti790-

which continually influenced his military career, and which
taught him that it made little difference in the chances of a
soldier's life whether he did his duty cautiously and shabbily,
or promptly and handsomely, exposed himself to the hottest
fire wherever he could. On one occasion he persevered so
heedlessly in doing so, that Colonel Harris and the other
officers with him implored him to come down from the
position where he stood as a mark to the enemy. He dis-
regarded their remonstrance, when Colonel Harris jumped
up and placed himself beside him, saying, " If you, sir,
think it right to remain here, it is my duty to stand by you.**
This act of generous friendship had an immediate effect
upon the noble heart of Greneral Medows, and he descended
from his perilous station.*

Nor was the humanity of the General less conspicuous
than his gallantry and devotion. It was one of his favourite
maxims — one which he never neglected an opportimity of
enforcing upon the troops under his command — that ^ an
enemy in our power is an enemy no more j and the gloriooa
characteristic of a British soldier is to conquer and to spare.*
Even when opposed to the most barbarous and remorseless
enemy against whom we have ever taken up arms, he still
preached the doctrine of ^ no retaliation * to his followers.
Contending with enemies of a different description, no naan
was more anxious to acknowledge their merits than Greneral
Medows. At St Lucie he issued an order, commencing
with the following words : ^ As soon as our gallant and
generous enemy (the French) are seen to advance in great
numbers, the troops are to receive them with three huzzas

ij^.] GENERAL MEDOWS. 121

and then to be perfectly silent and obedient to their
officers.' *

In the course of the year 1 788, General Medows, mainly
on the recommendation of Lord Cornwallis, was appointed
Governor and Commander-in-Chief of Bombay. Accom-
panied by Colonel Harris as his Secretary,t he sailed in the
early part of the year for that Presidency 5 but he had not
long discharged the duties of his station, when he was trans-
ferred in a similar capacity to Madras. This change had

• This was in 1778. Medows commanded a brigade. An amusing
account of the operations is given by the Honourable Colin Lindsay
(* Lives of the Lindsays '), in which the reciprocation of courtesies
between the English and French officers is pleasantly represented.
Following their example, an English soldier took a pinch of snuff
from a French sentry, and got into trouble for it

t The circumstances of this appointment are worthy of record,
especially in connection with the history of the conquest of Mysore.
Happening shortly after his appointment to meet Harris iivSt James's-
street, General Medows asked his old friend and comrade what he
had been doing. Harris replied that he had been to the Army
Agents to arrange the sale of his commission, and that he was about
to make preparations to emigrate with his &mily to Canada, as he
saw little chance of advancement in the service. The General heard
the story with manifest vexation and impatience, and then asked his
friend if the sale had been actually effected and the money paid ? The
reply was that there would be a day*s delay, owing to tlie death of
the Princess Amelia. * Then,* said Medows, * you shall not sell out.
I am going as Governor to Bombay, and you shall go with me as
secretary and aide-de-camp. I will stop the sale of the commission.*
He did so at once, and consummated his kindness by lending his
friend a large sum of money to enable him to insure his life. And
from this accidental meeting in St James's-street came the gradation
of circumstances and events which turned the despairing soldier into
the conqueror of Mysore and the founder of an illustrious family.

123 LORD CORNWALLIS. [jjgo.

■

been in contemplation from the £rst^ and indeed the King's
Ministers had intended that he should eventually succeed to
the Governor-Generalship — ^an arrangement which, it was
felt, would be gratifying to Cornwallis.* But Medows,
who was no courtier, and who scorned to purchase promo-
tion by servility, contrived to give offence to the Directors
in Leadenhall-street, and for some time it appeared to Lord
Cornwallis that his friend had thrown away his chance of
succession. In April, 1790, however. General Medows w2b
formally appointed, on the recommendation of Mr Pitt, to
'succeed to the Government-Greneral of Bengal, upon the
death, removal, or resignation of Earl Cornwallis/ 1

* The following extract of a letter from Mr Dundas to Lord
Cornwallis, dated July 22, 1787, places thisbey<md a doubt ? 'We
are all agreed that military men are the best of all Governors for
fodia, and our wish is to persuade General Medows to accept the
Government of Bombay, with a commission of Commander-in-Chief
of that settlement. He will remain till Campbell leaves Madras and
can be appointed to that settlement when Campbell leaves it ; and
there he can remain till you leave India, and be ready to succeed you
when you choose (which I hope will be as late as you can) to leave
it.* What Cornwallis thought of the plan is equally clear : * I should
now be inclined to say,* he wrote to Mr Dundas, * you had better
stick to your plan of military Governors, and have done with the civil
line, if I did not remember there have been some military characters
in this country that have not been very correct. I hoi>e, however, at
all events, that Medows will be my successor — ^not that I mean to run
away whilst the house is on fire ; for much as I wish to return to
England next year, I would not do it unless the Company's posses-
sions were in a state of security.* — Cornwallis Correspondence, Ross*
Feb. 7, 179a

t Pitt's letter is dated April 28, 1790. He wrote to the Chairman
and Deputy-Chairman, sajring : * As you expressed a wish that I
should communicate to you, in writing, my sentiments respecting the

1790.] GENERAL MEDOWS. 123

In the spring of 175^, as already stated. General Medows
disembarked at Madras, and lost no time in placing himself
at the head of his army. On the 2 jth of May the order-
book contained his first characteristic address to the troops
under his command, dated from Head-Quarters Camp,
Trichinopoly Plain: ^The Commander-in-Chief, Major-
General Medows, is happy to find himself at the head of
that army whose appearance adorns the coimtry, he tnists
their bravery and discipline will save. An army that is
brave and obedient, that is patient of labour and fearless of
danger, that surmounts difficulties, and is full of resources,
but above all, whose cause is just, has reason to hope to be
invincible against a cruel and ambitious tyrant, whose savage
treatment of his prisoners but too many present have expe-
rienced. However, should the fortune of war put him in
our hands, uncontaminated by his base example, let him be
treated with every act of humanity and generosity, and
enlightened, if possible, by a treatment so much the reverse
of his own. To a generous mind, a fault acknowledged is
a fault forgot j. and an enemy in our power is an enemy no
more. That the army and Commander-in-Chief may

nominations for the Governments of Bengal and Madras, I think it
right to state to you, that as far as I am enabled to form an opinion
on that subject, I think no arrangement can be made under the present
circumstances which will be more for the public service than the ap-
pointment of General Medows to be Govemor-CJeneral.'

The Court's resolution was passed on the same day. On the 28th
April, 1790, Major-General William Medows was appointed by the
Court of Directors *to succeed to the Government- General of Bengal,
upon the death, removal, or resignation of Earl Comwallis. * — MS^
Records^

xa4 LORD CORNWALLIS. [iTgd

understand each other — and the sooner the better, as there
h nothing on earth that he idolizes more than a well-disci-
plined army, so there is nothing on earth that he detests or
despises more than the reverse — he is, therefore, determined
to make the severest examples of the few that may dare to
disgrace the army in general by a different conduct. No
plunderers will be shown the smallest mercy j he is resolved
to make examples severe, in the hope of making them rare,
and would think it one oi the greatest blessings he could
enjoy to make none at all. Among the first wishes of his
heart is the army's reputation and success j but it must be
prepared for hardships, and to endure them — for difficulties,
and to surmount them — for niunerous enemies, and to beat
them.'

But the noble soldier is not always the accomplished
General, and the high qualities which distinguished Medows
were not those which command success in such operations
as were now confided to him. He took the field under
many disadvantages. His army was ill equipped 5 the
country and the mode of warfare were new to him. He
was imperfectly acquainted with the resources of the enemy,
and was too eager for action in detail to take a comprehen-
sive view of the general demands of the campaign before
him. He was blamed for dividing his forces in such a
manner as to expose them to disaster by the impossibility of
supporting them when engaged with superior bodies of the
enemy 3 and it is not to be doubted that the army was
harassed and wearied without attaining any proportionate
results.* Lord Comwallis had fi*om the first entertained

• The following passage in Major Price's narrative, drawn from

I790-] SUPERSESSION OF GENERAL MEDOWS. 125

some private misgivings as to the wisdom of his friend's
plan of operations 5 but he had waited patiently for the
fuller development of the scheme, and had passed no hasty
judgment upon it. But month after month passed, and it
was plain that Medows was making no way towards the
subjugation of Tippoo, and, in spite of his eager wish for
hard fighting, had failed to bring the Sultan to a general
action. At last, the inmiinent danger to which the force
under Colonel Floyd was exposed, in the half-glorious, half-
disastrous affair of Sattemengulum, where the gallantry of
our troops was far more conspicuous than their success,
roused the Grovernor-Greneral from his generous delusion
that the conduct of the war was in good hands. Moreover,
it required good and experienced management to keep our
allies, the Nizam and the Peishwah, up to the mark of good
faith and vigorous action under the depressing influences of
an unsuccessful campaign. So, after much self-communing
and some consultation with his colleagues in the government.
Lord Cornwallis determined to take conmiand of the army
in the field.

But he was very careful of the reputation of his friend,
and with some — perhaps excusable — obscuration of the
truth, recorded in his public despatches that he did not

his contemporary journals, is significant : * On this subject I find it
here rather boldly remarked for a subaltern of nine years' standing,
how much it derogated from the judgment of the Roman Brutus, to
whose vigorous example General Medows had some time since refer-
red, to have thus exposed his army to be cut off in detail by placing
so valuable a division of it, in defiance of so many fatal examples, so
fer beyond the possibility of support It was, however, the general
opinion at the time.'

126 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1790

supersede Greneral Medows on account of any distrust of
his military skill.* ' I entertain/ he wrote to the Court
of Directors on the 17th of November, ^too high an
opinion of Greneral Medows*s professional abilities, and feel
too great a confidence in his zeal to promote the public
good, to imagine that the war will be conducted with more
success under my own immediate direction 3 but as Tippoo
may have it in his power, during a temporary inactivity on
our part, to turn his whole force against our allies, and,
unless counteracted by us, may intimidate or otherwise
prevail upon them to treat for a separate peace, I have
thought it incumbent upon me, on this occasion, to step
beyond the line of regular official duty, upon the supposi-
tion that my presence on the coast may operate in some
degree to convince them of our. being determined to perse-
vere in a vigorous prosecution of the war, and by that
means encourage them to resist the common enemy with
firmness until the north-east monsoon shall break up, and
we shall, in other respects, be prepared to act with efficacy
in co-operating with them.* To Mr Dundas he wrote
about the same time, saying : * It is vain now to look back \
we must only consider how to remedy the evil, and to
jMrevent the ill efifects which our delay may occasion in the
minds of our allies. It immediately occurred to me that
nothing would be so likely to keep up their spirits, and to

* In a letter to his brother, Lord Comwallis says : * Our war on
the coast has hitherto not succeeded so well as we h?.d a right to
expect. Our army, the finest and best appointed that ever took the
field in India, is worn down with unprofitable fatigue, and much dis-
contented with their leaders, and the conduct of both Medows and
Musgrove highly reprobated.'

X790.] SUPERSESSION OF GENERAL MEDOWS, 127

convince them of our determination to act with vigour,
as my taking the command of the army 5 I have accord-
ingly declared my intention of embarking for Madras in
the first week of next month.'

It was a fortunate circumstance that General Medows
ever regarded Lord Cornwallis with the warmest feelings
of admiration and esteem, and that, with all his eager de-
sire for military glory, he did not receive with a sentiment
of jealousy the tidings of his supersession by the Governor-
General. It is possible, indeed, that he may have seen in
this new distribution of authority increased opportunities of
personal distinction; for he was one who, in these days,
would covet a Victoria cross more than a peerage, and a
wound received at the head of a storming party more than
all the prize money in the world. By Lord Cornwallis
himself the noble bearing of his friend was held in all due
• honour. ^I hope,' he wrote toDundas, 'you will give Medows
full credit in England for his generous and noble conduct on
the \xymg occasion of my superseding him in his command.
I knew the excellence of his temper and of his heart, but
he has really, in this instance, surpassed my expectations.
It is, besides, but justice to him to observe that, owing to
untoward accidents, the first intelligence he received of my
coming was attended with the most mortifying circum-
stances ; for although I had, out of delicacy, kept my
resolution a profound secret for three weeks after I had
written my intentions to him, it unluckily happened, owing
to the interruption of the posts, that he first heard of it from
the Madras Board.'

128 LORD CORNWALLIS, [1790-91.

On the 1 2th of December, 1790, Lord CornwaUis
arrived at Madras. He found in the civil administration of
that Presidency greater abuses than he had discovered in
Bengal. ^ The whole system of this Presidency,' he wrote,
' is founded on the good old principles of Leadenhall-street
economy — small salaries and immense perquisites 5 and if
the Directors alone could be ruined by it, everybody would
say they deserved it 5 but imfortunately it is not the Court
of Directors, but the British nation that must be the
sufferers. We must, however,' he continued, ^ put an end
to the war before we can attempt any serious reform, and
my thoughts for some months to come will be wholly
occupied in endeavouring to reduce the overgrown power
of Tippoo.'

From Madras, on the 22nd of January, 1791, he wrote
to Mr Barlow, after some observations on the new scheme
of civil administration ; ^ I have led a life of the greatest
anxiety, in the first place from the disappointment in the
arrival of our ships, and the total failure of the monsoon,
which has not, perhaps, occurred for the last forty years,
and afterwards from the General's having brought too small
a force from Arnee to insure the safe conveyance of so
great a train of artillery and provisions as we must take from
hence. The latter is now set right, after its having caused
me many sleepless nights, and we have now provided
bullocks to enable us to march, even if none should arrive
from Bengal. What fools are men, for wishing for power
and command j and how much greater a fool am I, for
embarking in all these troubles and anxieties without wish-
ing for either. Tippoo in person has gone either against

I79X.J PROSECUTION OF THE WAR. 129

the Mahrattas or Abercromby^ but his numerous horse
have committed, and still commit, the most shocking cruel-
ties in the Carnatic. I shall march from hence on the 4th
or jth of next month for Bangalore and Seringapatam j and
everything is so arranged that I do not expect to meet with
any great obstructions, either from the want of stores or
provisions.'

Before the end of the month Cornwallis met Greneral
Medows at Vellout, and assumed command of the army.
On the jth of February, they broke ground for Vellore.
On the 1 2th he wrote from that place, saying that by the
jth or 6th of March he hoped to invest Bangalore. On
the 23rd of February he wrote to his brother, saying that
he had brought all his heavy artillery and stores over the
mountains without accident. ' Two or three months,' he
added, ' must probably bring this war to a crisis, and I shall
then be able to form some judgment about the time of my
going home.* There was small prospect at that time oi
such a consummation, for he had talked to Medows about
the succession to the Governor-Greneralship, and the General
hadr shown no inclination to go to Bengal at the end of the
war.

Cornwallis kept his word to the letter, and on the jth

of March he invested Bangalore. Two days afterwards tlie

pettah, or town, was carried, to the astonishment of Tippoo,

who had been entirely outmanoeuvred by the English

General 5 and then preparations were commenced for the

capture of the fort. The operations of the siege wt^zc

continued until the 20th of March, when everything was

ready for the assault. There was a stout and gallant re-
VOL. I. 9

130 LORD CORNWALUS, t«79««

sistancej but the steady gallantry of the English forces
prevailed. Bangalore was taken by assault. Large num*
bers of the enemy were bayoneted in the works, and Tippoo,
surprised and disheartened by the seizure of so valued a
. stronghold, withdrew the force with which he had hoped
successfully to support the besieged,* and fell back towards
Seringapatam.*

A more cautious general than Lord Comwallis— -one
less eager to do his work by bringing the enemy to action
— would now, perhaps, have hesitated to attempt to bring
the campaign to a close in the existing season. The line of
country before him was far more extensive than that which
he had already traversed, and his resources were far less.

* The best account with which I am acquainted of these opera-
tions, which belong rather to history than to biography, is to be found
in a letter written by Sir Thomas Munro, when a young officer with
the army. He sajrs that Lord Comwallis, * from his uniform steady
conduct, deserved success : he never lost sight of his object to follow
Tippoo ; neither did he, in the different cannonades, ever permit a
shot to be returned.* *0n the 17th, in the morning. Lord Comwallis
was visiting the batteries, when, about eight o'clock, fifteen guns
opened suddenly on the left wing. The nature of the country, which
is full of hollow ways, had enabled Tippoo to advance unperceived,
and the report of the guns was the first notice that General Medows
had of his being so near. The line formed without striking tents, and
the troops sat on the ground whilst the enemy kept up a brisk can-
nonade, which, though distant, did a good deal of execution among
the followers crowded together in the centre of the camp, between the
two lines of infantry, and it also killed or wounded fifty or sixty men
in the ranks, which so far got the better of his Lordship's temper
that he determined to advance, and was giving directions to >. that
effect when Tippoo drew off his army.* — Gleig^s Life of Sir Thomas
Munro,

I79X.] FIRST A TTEMPT ON SERINGAPA TAM, 131

During the operations against Bangalore, he had lost a con-
siderable part of his carriage cattle. Large numbers of his
draft buUodcs had been killed to supply his European troops
with food, and a still greater number had died. But these
formidable obstacles did not detej* Cornwallis from advanc-
ing. He knew the chances and the cost of failure, but he
balanced them against the immense advantages of success.
At any moment a letter might have been brought into his
tent announcing that France and England were again at
war with each other — in which case the French in India
would have given their best help to the Sultan of Mysore.
So he determined, after forming a junction with the Nizam's
cavalry,* to push forward into the very heart of Tippoo's
dominions, to invest the capital, and to dictate terms of
peace under the walls of Seringapatam. Before the middle
of May, he was within ten miles of that city 5 but, although
he was strong enough to beat the enemy fairly * in the open,'
he saw at once that he had not the means of carrying so
formidable a place as that which now stood, in proud defi-
ance, before him. On the i jth of May he was in some
measure rewarded for all the toil and anxiety of his difficult

• I cannot help thinking that this was by far the greatest error
which Cornwallis committed. He lost exactly a month by it, when
time was everything to him, by going round to pick up a body of
horse, whose co-operation was not likely to be of much use to us
when obtained. Munro says : * We had already seen that they
would distress us gready by destroying our forage, as they would
not venture beyond our outposts to collect it ; and that they could
have been of no use to us, as the whole of them would not face five
himdred of the enemy's horse.' This statement is amply confirmed
by Lord Comwallis's own correspondence.

133 LORD COR NW ALUS, [1791.

march to the Mysore capital, by the occurrence of the long-
coveted opportunity of drawing Tippoo into action yi the
field. He accomplished this, and aided by the Nizam's
troops, who fought better than he had expected, he fairly
beat and dispersed them. But he was not in a position to
foUow up the victory. The junction which he had ex-
pected to form with Gleneral Abercromby, the Bombay
Commander, was not immediately practicable. The ele-
ments were hostile, and the material resources of the army
were failing him. Bitter, indeed, was the mortification
which overwhelmed him, when he found that just at whal
he had believed to be the point of victory, he was corae
pelled to retire. But he had neither stores nor pro^'isions
for a long siege 5 and to have attempted, at the end of
May, to carr}' the place with such insufiicient means, would
have been only to court a disastrous failure. So he deter-
mined to break up his siege train, and to fall back upon
Bangalore.*

Then Lord Cornwallis began to experience, in all their

* Munro thus describes the situation of Comwallis's army : * We
had by this time lost the greatest part of our cattle ; the guns had for
the two last marches been brought forward with much difficulty by
the assistance of the troops, and the battering-train had seldom got*
to its place before ten at night. The weather, too, which had been
unfavourable ever since our leaving Bangalore, had now all the
appearance of a settled monsoon. The remaining bullocks, it was
apprehended, would hardly be able to drag the field-pieces back to
.Bangalore, and we had only twelve days' rice at half allowance. In
this situation it became absolutely necessary, on the 22nd, to burst
our heavy cannon, to bury the shot, to throw the powder into wells,
and to destroy all the other besieging materials.' — Oleics Life of Sit
Thomas Munro,

lyqi.] RETIREMENT OF THE ARMY, 133

bitterness, the horrors of a hot-weather campaign in India,
with insufficient appliances for the maintenance and protec-
tion of his army. An epidemic disorder broke out among
his cattle. Numbers fell by the way, and the remainder
with difficulty struggled on with their burdens. Grain was
so scarce, that the famished camp-followers were compelled
to feed on the diseased carcases of the bullocks. The
cavalry horses were, reduced to such a state that they could
not carry their riders, and many were shot as useless encum-
brances. The officers, who had given up the greater part
of their private carriage for public uses, suffered so severely
that in many cases they were compelled to ask for the ra-
tions which were served out to the privates. The tents
were little better than tinder ; and the clothes of officers
and men were reduced to mere rags. 'The ground at
Camiambuddy/ wrote Major Dirom, the historian of *the
war, 'where the army had encamped but six days, was
covered in a circuit of several miles witji the carcases of
cattle and horses 5 and the last of the gun-carriages, carts,
and stores of the battering-train, left in flames, was a me-
lancholy spectacle which the troops passed as they quitted
the deadly camp.*

It was not strange that, in such distressing circumstances,
the spirits of the commander should begin to droop. There
was a necessary suspension of operations, for the rains had
set in 5 and there is nothing so wearisome and enervating
as the inactivity of camp-life in ati unhealthy season of the
year. His constitution, on the whole, bore up bravely 5
but continued anxiety began to tell upon him. ' My health,'
he wrote to his brother on the 13 th of July, ' has not suf-

134 t.ORD CORNWALLIS, [1791.

fered, although my spirits are almost worn out, and if I
cannot soon overcome Tippoo, I think the plagues and
mortifications of this most difficult war will overcome me.*
Six long, dreary weeks of waiting passed away \ and he
still felt sad and sick at heart. * If Tippoo,* he wrote to
his son, on the 8th of September, ' does not offer reasonable
terms before that time, I hope to oblige him to do so by a
successful attack on Seringapatam in November next j but
however favourable a turn our affairs may take, I cannot
now expect, consistently with the duty I owe to my coun-
try, to leave India before January, 1793, and I trust that
my evil stars cannot detain me longer than that period. I
grow old and more rheumatic, and have lost all spirits, and
shall only say when I return :

* A soldier, worn with cares and toils of war,
Is come to lay his weary bones among you.'

' You remember Wolsey's speech, but I shall have an easier
conscience than he, probably, had.' And on the same day
he wrote to his friend Mr Grisdale, saying : ' God knows
when our war will end — I hope and trust it will end soon,
or it will end me. I do not mean that I am sick. I have
stood a burning sun and a cold wind as well as the young-
est of them ; but I am plagued and tormented and wearied
to death.*

The time, however, had now come for the commence-
ment, at least, of those minor operations which were neces-
sary to secure the success of the grand march upon Seringa-
patam. Some forts were to be taken at no great distance
from Bangalore, where the army was encamped 3 stubbornj

1791.] RECOMMENCEMENT OF HOSTILITIES. 135

obstinate places, of immense natural strength, which the
enemy believed to be impregnable. One of these places,
known as Nundydroog, was to be carried at the end of
September. The fortress was described as standing on a
rocky mountain, 1700 feet in height, 'three-fourths of its
circumference being actually inaccessible.* After some
weeks, however, a practicable breach was made, and then
Greneral Medows, who had all this long weary time been
panting for an opportunity of personal distinction, offered
his services to command the detachment that was to pro-
ceed to the assault, and Lord Cornwallis accepted them.
On the 1 8th of October ever3rthing was ready for the ad-
vance of the stormers. Greneral Medows placed himself at
the head of his men, and the word had been given to move
forward upon the breach, when some one vociferated that
there was a mine beneath it. ' If there be a mine,' cried
Medows, ' it is a mine of gold 5 * and he called on his men
to push forward. And amidst a continued hail of heavy
stones from the impending precipice, more formidable than
the fire of the guns, the storming party entered the breach 5
and so a place which, in the hands of the Mahrattas, had
defied Hyder Ali for three years, was wrested from his sons
after a siege of a few weeks.

The cold weather, so eagerly looked for, came at last 5
and the interval of repose, wearisome and dispiriting though
it was, had been turned to the best possible account. The
army which was now about to take the field, was very dif-
ferent from the army with which, \vl the hot weather. Lord
Cornwallis had retired fix)m Seringapatam. Great prepara-
tions had been made for the renewal of the war. Bengal

1^6 ' LORD CORNWALLIS. [1791.

had been drawn upon for artillery and carriage cattle — espe*
cially elephants. A large supply of specie had come from
England. Success was now almost a certainty. The army
was set in motion again, and, as it advanced, the spirits of
Lord Cornwallis rapidly revived. There was something to
be done before the great crowning work of the iiivestment
of the Mysore capital was to be accomplished. The great
stronghold of Savindroog — more formidable, even, than
that of Nundydroog — ^was to be carried by assault. As long
as it remained in the enemy's hands our lines of communi-

•

cation could not be secured, and our convoys might, at any
time, have been intercepted. Tippoo had laughed to scorn
the idea of such a place being carried by human agency j
and the garrison, which he had posted in it, relied mainly
on its natural strength. But the batteries which opened on
*^he 1 7 th of December had soon effected a practicable breach,
and on the 22nd the place was carried by assault. Corn-
wallis was overjoyed at the result. * I have been fortunate,'
he wrote to his brother on the 29th, ' in taking, in a very
few days, and with very litfle loss, the important fortress of

•

Savindroog, the possession of which was absolutely neces-
sary to enable us to maintain a secure communication with
Bangalore when we advance to the attack of Seringapatam.
The speedy reduction of this place, which has been con-
sidered all over India as impregnable, has struck great terror
into the enemy's other garrisons j for, in the three days
subsequent to the assault of Savindroog, three other strong
forts in its neighbourhood, each of them capable of making
a good resistance, fell into our hands. By these successes
we have now a frontier-line by which our supplies may

X7<ja.l SBRINGAPA TAM. 137

with ease be brought forward within fifty miles of the
enemy's capital. God send that we may soon see a happy
termination of this war, of which I am most heartily tired/
The new year found the army full of heart and hope,
eager to advance. The arrangements of our Native allies,
always tardily effected, were at last complete, and the
armies of the Nizam and the Peishwah were ready to ac-
company us to the Mysore capital. On the 2 jth of January
the junction with the Confederates had been formed, and
everything was ready for a combined advance on the capital
of Mysore. The army marched, and on the 5th of Febru-
ary Seringapatam was again in sight. No painful doubts
and anxieties now assailed the mind of the Commander.
Confident of success, he was eager to do his work quickly ;
and whilst Tippoo was congratulating himself on the
thought that time would be his best ally, Cornwallis was
taking it by the forelock, and making his dispositions for an
immediate attack on the enemy's camp. Seringapatam
stands at one extremity of an oblong island formed by two
branches of the Cauvery river. Between the northern bank
of the river and a strong ' bound hedge,' Tigpoo's army was
posted, under the shelter of the guns of the fort and the
batteries of the island. Once assured of their position,
Cornwallii determined to dislodge them. His best hope lay
in a prompt and vigorous movement at an unexpected time 5
so in the course of the 6th of February he made his arrange-
ments for a night attack by a lightly-equipped body of
Foot on the enemy's camp and the works which they
were constructing. General Medows was to command
the right. Colonel Maxwell the left, whilst Corowallis

1^3 LORD CORNWALUS. fiToa.

himself took command of die centre division of tEe force.
To our Native allies this movement seemed to be no-
thing less than a spasm of madness. That a few regiments
of Infantry, without guns, should be sent forward to attack
the enemy in position in a fortified camp, imder the shelter
of their guns, and that the Grovernor-General and Com-
mander-in-Chief sliould go with the fighting party, as
though he were a common soldier, were eccentricities of
warfare unaccountable in their eyes save by the hypothesis
of the insanity of the Lord-Sahib. But never in his life
did Comwallis go about hb wwk more sanely — never with
a cooler calculation on the chances, or a juster, appreciation
of the immense advantages, of success. He started in high
spirits. It was a fine, still, moonlight night, and unencum*
bored as they were they moved forward rapidly and quietly,
and soon came in front of Tippoo*a astomshed army. The
story c^ that eveatfid night has c^en been told before*
The left and the centre divisions were completely success-
fid ; but the right division, under General Medows, *■ by one
of those accidents to which all operations in the night must
be liable,* failed to accomplish the work intrusted to it,
Medows found himself before a well-defended redoubt, the
assault of which was not a part of the intended plan of
operations, and before he could carry it, and proceed to
support the Commander-in-Chief, day had broken^ and
Lord Cornwallis had done his work,*

* During a great part of the operations, Comwallis was personally
fxposed to the fire of the enemy. He was wounded in the hand) but
not severely. It is related that when Medows joined him, he said*
alluding to the mistake he had made, ' I, my Lord, not you, should

I79a.l SERINGAPA TAM. 139

But although the £nglish General had accomplished
more than he had ventured to hope, and Tippoo, who had
seen, first with incredulity and then with dismay, the long
line of English Footmen advancing under the silence of
the night into the very heart of his camp, had shut himself
in. his fort, the daylight did not bring with it any cessation
of the strife. Our troops had effected a lodgment on the
island of Seringapatam, and detachments there and on the
other side of the river in rear of Tippoo*s camp were
now exposed to the attacks of the enemy, who in vain en-
deavoiired to dislodge them. There was some hard fight-
ing throughout the day, the result of which made it clear
to the Sultan that the game must now be played out by
him behind the walls of Seringapatam ; so he withdrew
his troops fi'om all tlie outlying redoubts, and abandoned
every part on the north side of the river. So that now, in
the words of the military historian of the war, ' the proud
city of Seringapatam, which we could scarcely discern firom
our first ground, was now in forty-eight hours strongly and
closely invested on its two principal sides; the enemy's
army broken* and dispirited j ours in perfect order, and
highly animated by their success.*

Preparations were now made for the commencement
of the siege. But Tippoo had, by this time, measuring
rightly the resources of the English, begun to think of the
expediency of not risking conclusions with the formidable
force which had just routed his best troops, and was now

have had that rap over the knuckles.' The main brunt of the fighting
must have fallen on the centre division, for it lost 542 men killeffit and
nrounded out of a total of 535.

140 LORD CORNWALLIS [ijqat,

II ■ II III- - - ■ --~ — ^ ^~- -- — — — - - |— - - — -— - -- — -- ' .... — ^1. ^mm,^^^m,m^^

preparing to attack his stronghold. But one despairing
effort might yet be made, if not by fair means, by foul, to
cast confusion into the ranks of the enemy. In the eyes of
an Oriental potentate, to destroy the leader of an expedi-
tion, is to destroy the expedition itself If Lord Corn-
wallis, who, in his own person, represented the supreme
military and civil power of the English, could be cut off
by any base stratagem, it appeared to Tippoo a certainty
that the army would retire, discomfited and despairing,
from Seringapatam. He did not think that the foul act
woidd have excited to deeds of still higher daring the irre-
pressible manhood of the English Army, and that Medows
would certainly, in such a case, amply avenge the murder
of his leader. So he sent a party of Mahomedan horse-
men, drugged to the point of fury with hang, to make their
way into the English camp, and cut the English leader to
pieces in his own tent. A man of simple and unostentatious
habits and ever disinclined, for the sake of his own safety
or comfort, to give trouble to others, the Governor-Greneral
and Commander-in-Chief had always been content with a
guard consisting of a couple of troopers of his own escort.
If, then, Tippoo's horsemen, who, in such a heterogeneous
assembly as that which was composed by the forces of the
Confederates, might easily have escaped observation, bad
taken their measures with any calmness and collectedness,
they might have accomplished their object. But they went
about their work wildly, and they failed. A party of
Bombay Sepoys turned out against them, and they fled in
dismay from the English camp. After this. Lord Com-

1792.1 PEACE NEGOTIATIONS. 141

wallis was reluctantly persuaded to allow a party of Eng-
lish soldiers to mount guard over his tent.

Foiled in this desperate attempt upon the life of the
English leader, Tippoo was eager to negotiate a peace.
The negotiations extended over many weeks, and there was
at least one man in camp who watched their progress with
the deepest interest, hoping that the peace-efforts would
break down utterly, and that orders would be issued for the
commencement of the siege. This was General Medows,
who knew that he would regain all the credit he had lost,
and a large measure besides, whether living to bear his
honours or dying in the breach. The accident which had
befallen him had preyed tormentingly on his spirits. Se-
ringapatam, however, was not yet tal^n. There was pros-
pect of a siege, and General Medows sought permission to
command the storming party. This had been the cherished
wish of his heart ever since the commencement of the
campaign. He had modestly declined the offer of the Go-
vernor-Greneralship, which had reached him in camp, but
had added : ' I will never quit this country till I have com-
manded the storming party at Seringapatam.' * And now

♦ The passage of the letter to the Court of Directors, in which
Medows declined the Governor-Generalship, is altogether so charac-
teristic, so honourable alike to him and to Lord Comwallis, that some
further passages of it may be given in a note : * Though the elements,
more faithful allies to Tippoo than either the Nizam's troops or the
Mahrattas to us, have obliged us to defer the siege of Seringapatam,
I still flatter myself it is only postponed, and not put off further than
from June to January, when, if he does not make a peace, which I
take to be so much the ^terest of all parties, the loss of his capital, I

r4a LORD CORNWALLIS, \vj^

he. was more than ever anxious to lead his men to the as-
sault^ for he felt that there was a stain upon bis character
to be effaced. The request was readily granted, and the
prospect of new glory buoyed him up for a time ; but only
to make more unendurable his subsequent disappointment.
With bitter anguish of heart, therefore, did he learn,
towards the end of February, that the negotiations had so
for succeeded, that Tippoo had consented to send two of
his sons into the British camp as hostages for the fulfilment
of the terms of the peace. What follows is one oi the
saddest things in Indian history. I tell it, as it was told, on
the same day, by an officer on Lord Comwallis's staff,
writing to a fi^iend in Calcutta.* ^ Tippoo,* he said, ' has,
this afternoon, commenced the execution of the prelimin-
aries of peace, by sending to camp his second and third
sons as hostages, conformably with one of the articles ; and

hope and expect, will be soon followed by the loss of his kingdom.
Lord Comwallis, who sees everything, who does everything, and who
is everything, will, I hope, have the peace in such forwardness by
January, as to enable me to go home with propriety, while he stays
another year, to complete the great and arduous undertaking he so
happily began, has so nobly continued, and, I have no doubt, will so
perfectly conclude, to his own honour and your satisfaction. But
should things take another turn, and there should not be peace,
though I beg leave to decline going to Bengal after January, 1 792, I
will never quit this country till I have commanded the storming party
at Seringapatam, or until the war is over. When, after the hand-'
some and independent fortune I shall have made in your service (I
should guess about forty thousand pounds, but I will tell you the
uttermost farthing the moment I know it), entirely by proper saving
from your liberal appointments, if you shall think " the labourer
worthy of his hire," I shall be most amply compensated/
* MS. Correspondence.

X702.] ATTEMPTED SUICIDE OF MEDOWS. 143

this act was made paticularly interesting and satisfactory to
Lord Comwallis, by Tippoo, without mentioning any of
the other confederates, insisting that his children should be
carried directly to his Lordship's tent, and there delivered
into his arms, with a request that he would, during their
absence from their father, consider them and treat them as
his own children. It would at any time have been impos-
sible to witness such a scene, which marked so great a
change in their father's fortunes, without certain reflections
on the instability of human grandeur. But all sensations of
that nature were almost totally absorbed in the melancholy
damp into which we had been thrown a few hours before,
by a fatal act that Greneral Medows had committed upon
himself. The column that the Greneral commanded on the
night of the 6th did not execute precisely what was allotted
to it. But he has, by his uniform conduct through life,
^tablished his character with all mankind as the essence of
honour and courage, and the mistake on that night was
never considered, by any man in the army, in any other
light than as one of those errors to which night attacks have
been, and ever will be, liable. The General, however, not-
withstanding every consolation which his Lordship could
give him, continued dissatisfied with himself, and allowed
this unlucky affair to prey continually upon his spirits, till
tljis morning, when it seems he could bear it no longer, arid
discharged a pistol loaded with three bullets into his body.
He is still alive, but there can scarcely be hopes that he will
recover. You will be able to judge of the severity of this
blow upon Lord Cornwallis, when I tell you that there are
few men in the world whom his Lordship more esteems

144 LORD CORNWALLIS, [179a.

and loves. This cruel stroke has poisonedall our enjoyment
of the present favourable appearance of public affairs.*
These gloomy anticipations, however, were not realized.
' Most miraculously/ as the same officer afterwards wrote,
' Greneral Medows recovered, and became perfectly recon-
ciled to himself and all the world.' *

• The following contemporary account of this painful circumstance
is given in the * Memoirs of a Field Officer,* written by Major Price,
formerlyjudge Advocate-General of the Bombay Army. It has the
strongest possible impress of the truth, and as it was not published
till nearly fifty years after the event occurred, it may be assumed that
the current story of the day was confirmed by later information : * To
account for this rash and extraordinary act, in an individual so
eminently distinguished, it is only necessary to explain, tliat on the
night of the memorable attack on the enemy's lines of the 6th Feb-
ruary, the General commanded the column which formed the right
of that attack. This column had been directed to penetrate the
enemy's lines towards their extreme left. Unfortunately, the head of
the column, instead of entering the bound-hedge, became engaged in
an attack upon the Eidgah redoubt — sometimes called Lally's — where
the defence turned out so obstinate and protracted^ and occasioned so
great a delay, as might have produced results the most disastrous.
For, during the untoward delay it was that the enemy from the left
were permitted to bear down upon the centre column, commanded
by Lord Comwallis in person. His Lordship had successfully pene*
trated the line in his front ; and haWng detached the greater part of
his column in pursuit of the enemy towards the river-side, was for
some time exposed to the greatest jeopardy of being cut off by the
sii^Jerior force which now poured upon him.. Providentially tte
troops that remained about his Lordship's person fought with such
devoted steadiness and resolution that the assailants were repelled
with loss ; and it was only about break of day, when not far from
the foot of Carigaht Hill, that General Medows made his appearance
with the right golumn of attack. It is said that in the irritation of
the moment a sharp interrogatory dropped from his Lordship^as to

I792-] ATTEMPTED SUICIDE OF MEDOWS, 145

On the 1 8th of March, after much negotiation, and

•where General Medows had been disposing of himself?' It has
never been satisfactorily explained why it was, that after silencing the
Eidgah redoubt, the column was led to the left without^ rather than,
as directed in the plan of the attack, within^ the bound-hedge. Some,
indeed, have asserted that it was through the cowardice or treachery
of the guides. This, however, has been denied ; and that, although
the General was spoken to on the subject, he, as it was said, persisted
in moving to the left, without the hedge. Harassed by the reflection
of the tremendous mischief that might have occurred, had anything
fatal occurred to Lord Comwallis and the column in the centre in
consequence of this unfortunate deviation, a mind so sensitive as that
of General Medows sunk under the impression ; and he felt it beyond
all endurance. He had looked forward to the hope that the Sultaun
would have held out to extremity ; and that he must, of course, have
been the officer selected to command the storming party. He had,
indeed, been frequently heard to repeat that "a storm was necessary
to his peace of mind." When, therefore, these hopes were frustrated,
and that peace was determined upon, he gave out a report that he
was going home in the Button East Indiaman, then about to sail for
England. On the very morning on which he made the lamentable
attempt he had conversed privately, and with apparent indifference,
with Mr Uhthoff on the subject of his voyage. The day which had
been determined upon by Lord Comwallis to receive the first visit of
the two hostage Princes was the one fixed upon for the perpetration of
this act of extraordinary desperation. The moment the salute was firing,
on the approach of the Princes, was that chosen by the General to put
a period to his existence. His pistol had been loaded with slugs, three of
which had lodged in his body. Two of them were promptly extract-
ed. He is said to have expressed the deepest regret for what he had
done, as well as his unreserved approbation of every measure adopted
by Lord Comwallis, and that nothing on the part of that noble person
had had the slightest influence on his conduct on this melancholy
occasion. He could, indeed, be sometimes ^cetious on the subject,
remarking that ''Mr Medows had had a misunderstanding with
General Medows, that had terminated in a duel, in which matters had
been amicably adjusted." *

VOL. I. 10

146 LORD CORNWALLIS, [xT^a.

many hitches and obstructions^ which every now and then
threatened a general break-down, the definitive Treaty was
sent out of the Fort, ' signed and sealed by Tippoo,' and
was delivered to Lord Cornwallis on the following day
under a salute from a Park of British Artillery and from
the guns of Seringapatam booming together. Some con-
siderable accessions of territory to the British Empire in
India were the result of this war, but it belongs rather to
the historian than to the biographer to write of these things
in detail.* Lord Cornwallis returned to Madras, and was
detained there some time for the settlement of the affairs
of the Carnatic. It was not until the 17th of July that he
was able to write to Mr Dundas : ' I have at length settled
everything with the Nabob, and I believe in the best man-
ner that it could have been done, unless we had kept pos-
session of the country 5 but that point could only have

* Thomas Munro, writing of the peace, says : * In this situation,
when extirpation, which had been talked of, seemed so near, the
moderation or the policy of Lord Cornwallis granted him peace on
the easy terms of his relinquishing half his dominions to the Con-
federates. Tippoo accepted these conditions on the 24th of February,
and orders were instantly issued to stop all working in the trenches.
The words which spread such a gloom over the army, by disappoint-
ing, not so much their hopes of gain, as of revenge, were these 2
** Lord Cornwallis has great pleasure in announcing to the army that
preliminaries of peace have been settled between the Confederate
power and Tippoo Sultan." ' But the yoimg critic presently adds :
* So much good sense and military skill has been shown in the con-
duct of the war, that I have little doubt that the peace has been made
with equal judgment.' His natural leanings, however, towards the
more vigorous course of action were too strong to be altogether
repressed, and he soon broke out again into the language of doubt
and reproach.

1793.] CHARACTER AS A COMMANDER. 147

been carried by force, without the least shadow of reason
or justice, and consequently was not to be attempted.*
Soon after this he sailed for Calcutta.

The generosity and humanity of his nature were sig-
nally displayed, in many ways, during this campaign, but in
none more than in his tender regard for the interests of the
soldiery, who looked up to him as their leader. He was a
man of a kind heart and a compassionate nature, and the
meanest soldier in the camp was in his eyes an object ever
worthy of his most thoughtful care. When he first joined
the army, he saw, to his dismay, that the Sepoy regiments
of the Madras force had no hospital doolies (litters) attached
to them, and that their sick and wounded were carried in
the rude blankets or horsecloths of the country. ' It is
hardly credible,* he wrote from camp to the Governor of
Madras, ' tliat so shocking a practice should have existed
so long, and that successive Generals could, without mak-
ing the strongest remonstrances, have seen their wretched
soldiers, either with a broken bone or a violent fever,
squeezed into a blanket and carried by two of their com-
rades.* It was not so in the Bengal Army j so Lord Corn-
wallis at once directed the deficiency to be supplied. Not
long afterwards, it happened that an army surgeon was
tried by court-martial, and convicted, of neglecting to dr«ss
the wounds and to take proper care of the Europeans who
had been wounded at Seringapatam— ' for which heinous
breach of duty,* said Lord CornwaUis, in a general order,
* and offence against the strongest and most afiecting ties

148 LORD CORNWALLIS. [1791.

of humanity, which forcibly plead in every generous breast
in favour of men who have shed their blood in the cause of
their country, he is condemned only to be suspended firom
his rank and pay in the service for eight months, and to be
reprimanded in public orders.' ^It is incumbent upon
Lord Comwallis,* continues the order, ' to show that he
sets a higher value upon the lives and limbs of the soldiers
than to expose them again to the hazard of falling under
the charge of a man who has been guilty of such gross neg-
lect. And he therefore declares to the army that he shall
recommend it to the Grovemor of Fort St George to con-
tinue Mr 's suspension until the pleasure of the Court

of Directors shall be known 5 and that he shall order the

Paymaster to give no share to Mr of that gratuity

which was obtained by the blood of those brave men,
whom he afterwards suffered either to perish or to languish
miserably for several weeks by an inhumanity which, by
any person unacquainted with the evidence that was pro-
duced against him, would be scarcely credible.*

It happened that the same court-martial sat in judg-
ment upon an officer of one of the King's regiments, who
had acted with great brutality towards a native of the coun-
try. The officer owed money to the poor man, and when
he was asked for it, paid the debt, not in coin, but in blows.
It is an old story- — a common mode of requital, I am afraid,
familiar to many generations. The man was sent back
again, by order of the commanding officer, accompanied
by the Adjutant of the regiment, and the debtor received
him, ' with the money that was due to him and the stick
that, was prepared to beat him lying on the same table,' and

«79a.] CHARACTER AS A COMMANDER. 149

administered a second correction to him, which ' divided
his ear.' But the S3rmpathies of the Court were all with the
white man, and he was acquitted as though this ' new way
to pay old debts ' were quite in consonance with the ac-
knowledged usages of officers and gentlemen. But Lord
Comwallis branded the man*s conduct ' as partaking both
of ferocity and injustice, and no less unworthy of the man-
ners of gentlemen than disgraceful to the character of
officers 5 * and whilst severely censuring the Court, and re-
minding it that ' true humanity consists not in screening
the guilty, but in protecting the innocent and redressing the
injured,* he told the culprit that if he should ' persevere in
the shameful practice of beating his creditors instead of
paying them, he should not on a future occasion escape the
punishment that such conduct deserves.' Cruelty, whether
active or passive, evincing itself in brutal outrages, or in
negligence scarcely less brutal, filled him with measureless
indignation.

But it was not only by words such as these, and by the
due exercise of his authority, that he manifested his kindly
and generous consideration for all who looked up to him for
protection. He was a large-hearted man, capable of heroic
self-sacrifice for the good of others. To go to India, in
those days, was to go in quest of money. Large fortunes
were rapidly made 5 and men returned to England to buy
estates, and to found families. There were many ways to
wealth in the last century, lawful and unlawful 5 honourable
and dishonourable. Among the former — among the most
lavirful and the most honourable means of attaining wealth,
the only lawful and honourable way of attaining it per

ISO LORD CORNWALLIS, [1799b

saltum — was the acquisition of prize-money. If Lord Corii-
wallis had at one stroke added ,^j 0,000 to his fortune, by
receiving his 'share* of the booty taken in the war, it
would have been simply so much honourable gain, which
the world would have said he fairly deserved. He was
not a rich man. His estate, indeed, was scarcely adequate
to the due maintenance of his title \ * but he gave up to
the army serving under him his own magnificent share of
the prize-money as Commander-in-Chief j and Greneral
Medows^ as second in command, followed his illustrious
example.

The unqualified approval of the King and his Ministers
was conveyed to him in the most flattering words and in
the most practical manner, for his services throughout the
campaign. The King conferred a Marquisate on Earl
Comwallis, and Mr Pitt offered him the seals q£ one of the
State Secretaryships on his return to England. He had,
however, lived too much in the camp to qualify him for
parliamentary statesmanship, and he doubted whether his
want of skill and practice as a debater would not mar his

♦ It should also be recorded that during the war he found his
expenses far heavier than during peace, and was able to add little to
his savings. * You will judge,' he wrote to his brother, * from the
savings of other years, that I must have been considerably out of
pocket by the war when I tell you that I spent ;f 27,360 (reckoning
the current rupee at two shillings) between the ist of December, 1790^
and the 31st of July, 1792, besides the wine from England, and two
Arabian horses, for which I am to give English hunters. The im-
maculate understood making war in India better, or he wooM

not have paid off the mortgage on one estate in Scotland, andbou^^
another.'

1793.1 ^ STATE SECRETARYSHIP OFFERED HIM. 151

utility as a member of the Cabinet. 'I will freely own to
you,' he wrote to the great minister, 'that if anything could
induce me to come forward in a state of business and re-
sponsibility at home, it would be the allurement which
would be held out to my vanity by being enrolled as a
member of an administration, the uprightness of whose
principles, and the wisdom and vigour of whose conduct,
I so truly respect. I have, however, always been of opinion
that no man, who has a regard for the consideration in
which he is to stand with this country, should produce
himself, even in the House of Lords, as an efficient mem-
ber of the administration, without possessing such powers
and habits of parliamentary debate as would enable him to
do justice to a good cause, and defend his measures as well
as those of his colleagues. This maxim of orator Jit y which
has produced so much bad speaking and so much ennui in
the world, may be true in some instances 5 but he is not
to be made e ^uovis ligno, and I should doubt whether the
timber ought to undergo the seasoning of above half a
century.' * In this the extreme conscientiousness of the
man was apparent. These considerations have not, in a
later, and, it is said, a purer generation, deterred men,
wanting in the power of expression, from accepting high
office under the Crown. And I cannot help thinking that
it would be a misfortune to the country if great adminis-
trative powers were, in all cases, subordinated to natural
rhetorical gifts.

• Comwallis Correspondence. Rofs.

iSa LORD CORNWALLIS [1795.

On the return of Lord Cornwallis to Calcutta^ it was
his duty to gather up a number of official threads. It
would have pleased him much better if the exigencies of
war had never drawn him from Bengal, where all the
energies of his mind were devoted to the completion of a
great scheme of civil administration. I have said elsewhere
that ^Lord Cornwallis is the first Indian ruler who can
properly be regarded as an administrator. Up to the time
of his arrival, the English in India had been engaged in a
great struggle for existence. Clive conquered the richest
province of India. Hastings reduced it to something like
order. But it was not until Cornwallis carried to that
country the large-minded liberality of a benevolent English
statesman, that our administrative efforts took shape and
consistency, and the entire internal management of the
country under our rule was regidated by a code of written
laws (or regulations) intended to confer upon the natives of
India the benefits of as much European wisdom and bene-
volence as was compatible with a due regard for the
character of native institutions.' Aided by Mr Barlow,
then secretary to Government — afterwards Provisional Go-
vernor-Greneral, and for some years Governor of Madras, he
drew up a code of laws, or as he, correcting the language
of the secretary, called them ' Regulations,' now known to
history as the Regulations of 1793, which have since been
the basis of our civil administration of India. Sir William
Jones, to whom the scheme was submitted, declared that
it was worthy of Justinian, and another eminent English
lawyer said that they were ' worthy of every praise which

1793-] INTERNAL REFORMS, 153

can be bestowed upon them, and would do credit to any
legislation of ancient or modem times.* *

It is plainly beyond the scope of such a narrative as
this to enter minutely into the details of the reforms which
Lord Comwallis introduced into the judicial and revenue
systems of the country. The general principle on which
the former were based was years afterwards so well de-
scribed by the man who, of all others, was most competent
to speak on the subject, in an autograph memorandum in
my possession,t that I cannot do better than insert a
portion of it. ' Great misunderstandings,' wrote Sir Greorge
Barlow, 'have prevailed with regard to the new constiti^tion
for the civil government of the British possessions in India,
established by the Marquis ComwalHs in 1793, and com-
pleted by his successor. Marquis Wellesley. The change
did not consist in alterations in the ancient customs and
usages of the country, affecting the rights of person and
property. It related chiefly to the giving security to those
rights, by aflbrding to our native subjects the means of
obtaining redress against any infringement of them, either
by the Government itself, its officers, or individuals of any

character or description Lord Comwallis made

no innovations on the ancient laws and customs of the
people. On the contrary, the main object of the constitu-
tion which he established was to secure to them the enjoy-
ment of those laws and customs, with such improvement

• Mr Advocate-General (afterwards Sir William) Boroughs.
i* It has been already quoted in a previous work by the present
untfaor.

154 LORD CORNWALLIS. [1799.

as times and circumstances might suggest. When he arrived
in the country, the Government was, in fact, a pure despot-
ism, with no other check but that which resulted from the
character of those by whom the Government was adminis-
tered. The Governor-Creneral not only was the sole power
for making all laws, but he exercised the power of adminis-
tering the laws in the last resort, and also all the functions
of the executive authority. The abuses to which such a
system of government is liable, from corruption, negligence,
and want of information, are too well known to require
being particularized. It is, in fact, from the want of a pro-
per distribution of these authorities in diiFerent hands that all
abuses in government principally proceed. His Lordship's
first step was to make it a fundamental law (1793) that all
laws framed by the Government should be printed and
published in the form prescribed by Regulation 43, and
that the Courts of Judicature should be guided by the
laws so printed and published, and no other. It had before
been the practice to carry on the affairs of the Government,
and those of individuals, by a correspondence by letter with
all the subordinate officers.'

The important Revenue measures which were intro-
duced into Bengal during the administration of Lord
Cornwallis, though necessarily occupying a large space in
the history of his government, are so little akin to the
general scheme and purport of this book, that any detailed
account or discussion of them would be out of place. I
think that, perhaps, the merit or the demerit of the great
2^mindarry settlement has been assigned overmuch by
some writers to the pecuHar tastes and tendencies of Lord

X793-] THE PERMANENT SETTLEMENT. 155

Cornwallis. Mr James Mill, in his great history, has said
that, 'full of the aristocxatical ideas of modern Europe,
the aristocratical person now at the head of the Government
avowed 'his intention of establishing an aristocratic upon
the European model.' In reality, however, the settlement
was the work of the middle class civilians of the Company,
nearly all of whom advocated a Zemindarry settlement,
and many of them a perpetual one. The father of the
Permanent Settlement, indeed, was Mr Thomas Law, *
Collector of Behar, who, long before Cornwallis had given
the subject a thought, had exhausted the budget of argu*
ments in favour of a system that was 'to found on a
permanent basis the future security, prosperity, and happi-
ness of the natives. Cornwallis, indeed, when he sailed
for India, left this system, which he is said to have initiated,
thoroughly understood and in high favour at home, and
found it when he arrived to be better known and more
cherished in Bengal. That he strongly supported it from
the first, and carried it through to its conclusion with no
little heartiness and energy, is certain, but it neither took
bhape nor colour in his mind, and he was no more the
originator of it than was Pitt, Dundas, or Charles Grant,
who together composed the despatch which gave to the
measure the final sanction of the Home Government.f

• A brother of the first Lord Ellenborough.

t This statement, made in a former work by the author, is placed
beyond a doubt by the following extract of a letter from Mr Dundas
to Lord Cornwallis : ' In your letter you allude to the important
question of the perpetuity of the Decennial Settlement, and I hare
the very great satisfaction to inform you that the same conveyance

156 LORD CORNWALLIS. [1799.

But although these great administrative arrangements
may be passed over thus briefly, something must be said in
this place of the efforts which Lord Cornwallis made to
secure their effective execution. ' We have long been of
opinion,* he wrote, ' that no system will ever be carried into
effect so long as the personal qualifications of the individuals
that may be appointed to superintend it form the only se-
curity for the due execution of it. The body of the people
must feel and be satisfied of this security before industry
will exert itself, or the moneyed men embark their capital in
agricultural or commercial speculations. There are certain

which carries this carries out an approbation and confirmation of
5roar sentiments on that subject. It has been longer delayed than I
expected, but the delay was imavoidable. Knowing that the Directors
would not be induced to take it up so as to consider it with any
d^;ree of attention, and knowing that some of the most leading ones
among them held an opinion different both from your Lordship and
me on the question of perpetuity, and feeling that there was much
respect due to the opinion and authority of Mr Shore, I thought it
indispensably necessary both that the measure must originate with the
Board of Control, and likewise that I should induce Mr Pitt to
become my partner in the final consideration of so important and
controverted a measure. He accordingly agreed to shut himself up
with me for ten days at Wimbledon, and attend to that business only,
Charles Grant stayed with us a great part of the time. After a most
minute and attentive consideration of the whole subject, I had the
satisfaction to find Mr Pitt entirely of the same opinion with us. We
therefore settled Si despatch upon the ideas we had formed, and sent it
down to the Court of Directors. What I expected happened 5 the subject
was too large for the consideration of the Directors in general, and
the few who knew anything concerning it, understanding from me
that Mr Pitt and I were decided in our opinions, thought it best to
acquiesce, so that they came to a resolution to adopt entirely the
despatch as transmitted by me.'

1793-] MILITARY REFORM. x^

powers and functions which can never be vested in the
same officers without destroying all confidence in the pro-
tection of the laws. This remark is particularly applicable
to the various functions vested in the present Collectors.*
And upon these grounds it was resolved that all judicial
powers should be withdrawn from the Collectors. Not
only had the judicial and the fiscal offices been blended^
but the former was altogether subordinated to the latter.
The Collector ' received no salary as Judge of the Court of
Justice or as magistrate of the district. These two offices
were considered as appendages to that of Collector, and the
duties of the two former stood still whenever they inter-
fered with those of the latter.'* That the separation of
the offices was an important administrative step, and tended
much to the purity and efficiency of the service, is not to
be doubted.

The reform of the military service of the country en-
gaged also much of his attention during these last days of
his rule, but it had been arranged between the Governor-
General and the King's Government that the discussion of
the subject should be deferred until Lord Comwallis's
return to England, and it was not, therefore, until Novem-
ber in the following year that he placed on record his views
on this important subject, in an elaborate letter to Mr
Dundas, which contains the following suggestive passage :
' As the above propositions not only secure a competent
mco.me to the military officers serving in India during the
early periods of their service, but also the substantial
advantage and gratification of an opening being made for,

* Minute by Lord Comwallis.

ISB LORD CORNWALLIS. [1793.

their attaining high military rank^ as well as the indulgence
of being enabled to visit Europe occasionally without re-
linquishing their pay, and the satisfaction of having it in
their power to spend tne latter part of their lives in their
native country, either by retiring on their full pay, by
selling theii commissions, or by remaining in the service
until they obtain the command and emoluments of a regi-
ment. All ideas must be given up in the army of looking
for perquisites or advantages in any shape whatever beyond
the open and avowed allowances which shall be allotted to
the respective ranks, and if any officer shall be detected in
making such attempts, he ought to be tried by a general
court-martial for behaving in a manner unbecoming the
character of an officer and a gentleman, and, if convicted,
dismissed fi-om the service.' Nothing did more to improve
the character of the officers of the Indian Army than this
important reform.

He resigned his seat at the head of the Government to
his old friend John Shore, who had come out with the
appointment a short time before the date fixed for his Lord-
ship's departure. Of all the servants of the Company he
was the one whom Cornwallis would most warmly have
welcomed as his successor 3 but it was his opinion that the
Govemor-Greneralship should be reserved for men of high
position in England, who had not been connected with
Indian administration.^ At one time Dundas himself had

• ' It is very difficult for a man to divest himself of the prejudices
w^cL tht habits of twenty years have confirmed, and to govern people
who have lived with him so long on a footing of equality. But the
Company s servants have still greater obstacles to encounter when they

f793-] ff^S SUCCESSOR. 159

thought of going out to India to take the supreme direc-
tion, but he had the Company's new charter to cany
through Parliament, so he could not leave England in time
to relieve Lord Cornwallis. In conjunction with Pitt,
therefore, he recommended Mr Shore for the provisional
appointment to the Governor-Generalship, with the under-
standing that if it was afterwards considered advisable to
send out a statesman from home. Shore would take the
second seat in Council. When he arrived, Cornwallb was
agreeably surprised to find how much he had improved.
I have had the pleasure,* he said, ' since I wrote last, of
receiving my friend Shore, whose mind is become much
more enlarged, and whose sentiments are greatly improved
by his visit to England.' * And in one of the last letters

become Governors, for the wretched policy of the Company has, till
the late alterations took place in Bengal, invariably driven all their
servants to the alternative of starving or of taking what was not their
own ; and although some have been infinitely less guilty in this respect
than others, the world will not tamely submit to be reformed by those
who have practised it in the smallest degree A man of up-
right intentions, with ability and application, that would undertake
this government for six or seven years, might do great things for the
public, and save a considerable fortune for himself. If you cannot
tempt such a man with these prospects, I have no effectual remedy to
propose.'

* Marquis Cornwallis to Mr Dimdas, March 24, 1793. — {Corn'
wallis Correspondmce, Ross. ) To this Lord Cornwallis added :
* He has been perfectly fair and good-humoured about the Permanent
Settlement, and his declaration that he will persevere in the present
system of external management, and, above all, his approbation and
resolution to support and enforce the late domestic arrangements,
have afforded me the greatest satisfaction, and induce me to hope
that I shall have grounds to retract the opinion I before gave, and to

x66 LORD CORNWALUS, [179^

— . - ■

he wrote from India, be assured his friend of his hearty
support. So, hopeful of a bright future, he made his
preparations for his final departure from Calcutta 5 and in
the autumn of 1793 proceeded to Madras, where he was
detained for some time, in consequence of the King's ship
bearing the admiral's flag, in which he was to have been
conveyed to England, having been compelled to go into
dock at Bombay. Lord Cornwiallis, therefore, as his mili-
tary secretary wrote, ' took his chance on the Swallow,*
and sailed from Madras on or about the loth of October,

1793.

So ended the first Comwallis administration. It had

embraced a period of seven years, during which much good
work had been done both in the Camp and in the Council
Chamber 5 and now, as he turned his face homeward, he
thought with well-grounded pride and satisfaction of the
great changes which had been wrought during his tenure
of office, and, most of all, perhaps, of the improved charac-
ter of the public service of our Indian Empire. If he did
not make the military and the civil services of India alto-
gether what they were in the last years of the Company,
he so purified, elevated, and invigorated them, that there
was no chance of their ever again relapsing into corruption
or imbecility. A healthy progress from that time was

admit him as an exception to my general rule. He did not appear
to be in the least disappointed by my resolution to retain the govern-
ment till August, but offered me his cordial assistance whenever I
might wish to employ him.* Shore was. always of opinion that it
was a mistake to make the Settlement permanent in the first in-
stance. He would have commenced with a Decennial Settlement

1794-J IN ENGLAND. l6i

uuured. It is scarcely too much, indeed, to say that but
tor the chastening influences of Comwallis's good seven
years', work, it would not have been my privilege to write
the stories of such lives as are included in these volumes.

He arrived in England in. the early part of February,
1794, and was sooi^ settled in his Suffolk home. But to one
who Ipoked for nothing so much as for repose, the times were
unpropitious. Europe was in an unsettled state, and the
country had need of all her best soldiers and diplomatists.
At such a season it was not to be expected that her
Majesty's Ministers would give much time and attention to
the aflairs of India. They looked upon Lord Cornwallis
not as one who had been employed for his country's good
m the East, but as one to he employed for his country's
good in the West, They concerned themselves with the
future, not with the past 5 and very soon resolved to draw
him from his retirement. Early in March he wrote to Mr
Barlow : ' Ministers highly approve of all we have done,
but in the hurry of such pressing business as must daily
occur, and so many urgent avocations, it is difficult to
extract from them even a paragraph. Mr Beaufoy, the
Secretary of the Board of Control, who is a very sens-
ible and zealous man, and who knows as much of Indian
affairs as most people here (which, God knows, is very
little), has promised to send out by these ships a complete
approval of the judicial regulations, and a recommendation
to extend them if possible to Benares. Lord Hobart, who
goes to Madras, with the provisional succession to Bengal^

VOL, I, II

i6* LORD CORNWALLIS, [1794

----- - ^

has abilities and habits of business. I have had many long
conversations with him, and have endeavoured to tutor him
well. I have not time to enter into European politics.' The
great body of the nation are convinced of the necessity of
the war, which may .truly be called a war of self-defence,
and are warna in support of the Ministers j but the great
exertions of the latter have not been seconded by the iskill
of our military commanders, and the campaign of '93 in
Europe has little resemblance to the campaign of *9o in
India. God send that we may do better j but I do not see
any flattering prospect.' A month later, he wrote to the
same correspondent, saying : * Much as I wish for quiet, I
am afraid that I shall be forced from my intended retire-
ment, and be engaged in a very difficult and hazardous^
situation in tlie busy scene on the Continent.'

These anticipations were soon fulfilled. Before th^
end of May, Lord Cornwallis had received the expected
summons from the King's (xovernment to proceed to Flan-
ders. On the 2nd of June he landed at Ostend 5 but his
mission was not a successful one. He had interviews with
the Emperor of Austria at Brussels, but his Imperial Ma-
jesty was obdurate, and could not be induced to comply
with the wishes of the British Government. Before the
end of the month he was recalled to England ; and was,
on his arrival, in frequent communication with Pitt and
Dundas on the subject of the prosecution of the war. * I
have taken Lord Hertford's house in Lower Grosvenor-
street,' he wrote to his brother in July, ' completely fur?
nished, for one year,, for six hundred guineas, which gives
ine time to look about me. My expedition has not beeo

.1794 J IN ENGLAND. 163

:a profitable one, but my baggage, horses, and wine are 10
.turned y and I shall keep everything in readiness till the
,end of the war, that I may not be subject to another ex-
ipensive equipment,' It was then in contemplation to con-
fer upon him the military command in Flanders, to counter-
act the incapacity of the Duke of York j but the appointment
never took effect, and it was weU for him that it did not,
for it would have placed him in an anomalous and trying
•position, in which he might have acquitted himself with
honour, but scarcely with success. It was, therefore, a
great reUef to him to find that the scheme was abandoned.
f I should have been,' he wrote to Mr Dundas, ' in the most
embarrassing and dangerous situation possible, with every
|irospect of ruin to myself, and very little probability of
l«ndering any essential service to my country.' Indeed, he
feared that the mere suggestion might have done him injur/
at Court. * I conclude I am now completely ruined at St
James's,' he said. ' Indeed, I could not be much worse
than I was before ; but that is a circumstance which will
hot disturb my rest, nor abate in the smallest degree my
attachment and afiection for the great personage from whom
I have formerly received much favour and kindness.'

He was now eager to escape into the country, but the
critical situation of affairs on the Continent detained him in
London till the beginning of September, when he betook
himself to Brome, From this place he wrote on the 7th
to Mr Barlow : * The very critical situation of the affairs of
Europe, and the part which I have thought it my duty to
take in giving every possible assistance to Government, by
personal services and military coiuisel, have a good deal

i64 LORD CORNWALLIS. [X794-^

diverted my attention^ and still more the attention of those
with whom I converse^ from the affairs of India \ which^
however, next to the immediate safety of Great Britain^
will be always uppermost at my heart. . . When I tell you
that I have not had ten days* leisure^ since my return from
India, to attend to my private af^irs, and that my situatiooi
is now so uncertain that I may be called upon in twenty*-
four hours to go to Flanders, you will not expect long let*-
ters, and it would require a large volume, if I were to at-
tempt to enter into the politics of Europe, and the horrors
of France which increase daily, and exceed all power of
belief 5 I shall, therefore, only say that, although we have
some amongst us that are wicked enough to endeavour to
involve this happy island in the same scenes of misery an4
desolation, and to fill our streets with blood, their number,
'thank God, is but small, and the great body of the people
of all ranks appears firmly attached to our present constitu-
tion \ but it is impossible to tell what effect ill success an4
heavy taxes may have upon this happy disposition.'

At the commencement of the following year. Lord
Cornwallis was appointed Master-Greneral of the Ordnance,
with a seat in the Cabinet. This compelled him, much
against his natural inclinations, to spend the greater part of
the year in London. In April, he wrote to his Indian
correspondent, Mr Barlow, assuring him that although he
had little time to devote to Indian affairs, he had not ceased
to take a lively interest in them. ' When I lefl India,* he
said, ' I thought that I should have nothing to do on my
:eturn to this country but to look a little to Asiatic affairs,
and to call the attention of Ministers to those points which

tf9S-^''] MASTER^GENESAL OF THR ORDNANCE. 1165

I knew to be of the most pressing and important nature.
The critical situation, however, of all Europe, and of our
own country in particular, has entirely engrossed my mind,
and the doubt whether we could possibly keep England
has almost effaced all ideas of improving our government
in India. It is a great personal satisfaction to me, that
without my declining the most arduous situations in which
it was possible a man could be placed, it so happened that
I had no share in the last disastrous and disgraceful cam-
paign. But stil] the prospect of public afikirs is exceed-
ingly gloomy, and the ruin which so imminently threatens
my country, and all that are most dear to me, presents it-
self constantly in the most alarming colours to my imagin-
ation. Notwithstanding all this, and the great pressure of
public business which my office of Master-General of Ord-
nance has imposed upon me, I have sometimes talked to
Mr Dundas about our Regulations, and often to Beaufoy,
and to the latter I have given a copy, with your observa-
tions, and as he has nothing to attend to but the business
of the Board of Control, I have desired him most carefully
to watch the correspondence, and not only to be on his
g^uard to prevent any counteraction from design or ignor-
ance, but to see that all instructions were in perfect unison
with our general plan, and to consult me whenever he
entertained the smallest doubts.*

The following year (1796) still found him writing in
the same strain. The critical state of affairs in Europe so
occupied the minds of the King's ministers, that they gave
no heed to Indian affairs, and Comwallis himself felt that
he was powerless to interfere to any advantage. He was.

x65 LORD CORNWALUS. Avj^i

at this time^ disquieted by apprehensions that the system of
civil administration^ which he had introduced into India*
would not be maintained inviolate^ ahd^ he wrote to hi»
friend and fellow-labourer, Mr Barlow, encouraging him \ix
the good work whichr they had both so deeply at heart. ' I
have received your letters to the 28th of May,' he wrote on
the 23 rd of January, 1796, *and have read them with the
enclosures with great attention, and with the warmest
gratitude to you, both public and private, for upholding a
system which is of such infinite consequence to the caUse
of humanity, as well as to the British interests in India, and
which, without your powerful support, could never have
been carried into useftil effect. Sorry I am to say that I
can render no further service than to endeavour to. pre-
vent mischief, for in the present critical situation of affairs,
when we are surrounded by so many pressing difBculties
and dangers, it is impossible to call the attention of Mr
Dundas and the principal members of administration to
so remote and so peaceable a subject as the good govern-
ment of India ^ and until we can obtain peace at home, I
see no prospect of succeeding. At the same time, I must
request that you will not be discouraged from persevering
in a conduct which must reflect the highest honour oq
yourself, whilst it renders the most essential service to your
country, and from which ^our benevolent mind will ever
derive the most gratifying reflections. Whilst Mr Beaufoy
lived, I could by his help get some paragraphs prepared for
approbation, but there is now no officer imder the Board
of Control that knows anything about India, or that can
be a useful instrument to me in any respect. The depart-

t7^.] STATE OF THE INDIAN ARMY. 167

itient over which I preside keeps my hands fiill of business j
but if I had more leisure, I could not act from myself, or,
without invitation, take a part in the official line of the
Board. Mr Dundas and I are, however, the best friends
possible, and I have no doubt that when the present anxie*
ties which occupy his mind are past, I shall obtain all
reasonable attention.'

But the time was now approaching when there was to
be also a ' critical state of affairs ' in our Indian possessions.
The officers of the Bengal Army were on the brink of
mutiny. They dreaded a serious invasion of their rights,
and were banding, or, as it was said, * conspiring * together
to maintain them. There was a scheme of* amalgamation *
afloat, the result of which would have been seriously detri-
mental to the interests of the Company's officers, and they
resisted it, in some instances, with an amount of vehemence
not consistent with military discipline. Indeed, the excite-
ment at one time was so great that a very little would have
stirred the smouldering fire into a blaze. The state of
affairs was alarming, and the alarm communicated itself to
the Government in England. It was plainly necessary to
do something. The something to be done took the shape
t)f a peace mission from home. Some high officer of the
Government was to go out to India, conciliatory but resolute,
with the olive branch in one hand, and the fasces of the law
in the other. But who was to proceed on this mission ?
The choice lay between Mr Dundas, the President of the
Board of Control, and Lord Cornwallis, the sometime Go-
vemor-Greneral of India 5 and for a while the probabihties of
felection oscillated between the two. Mr Dundas was more

i68 : LORD CORNWALL! S. [x79*-^^«

willing to go than Lord Cornwallis 5 but the Government,
who probably thought also that the latter was the more
fitting agent of the two, declared that the services of Dundas
could not be spared in that conjuncture at home 3 so most
reluctantly Cornwallis accepted the mission, and forthwith
began to make preparations for his voyage to India. * You
will, no doubt,' he wrote from Culford, to a friend in India,
on the 31st of January, 1797, *be much astonished at the
news of my return to India, but my earnest solicitude for
the welfare of my country, and my particular apprehensions
lest our Asiatic possessions should either be torn from lis, or
rendered a useless and miprofitable appendage to the British
Empire, have induced me to sacrifice every personal con-
sideration, and to gratify the wishes of Grovemment, and I
may venture to say of the pubUc at large, by coming for*
ward again, at this late period of my life, to endeavour to
restore our affairs in India to the prosperous state in which
I left them. As I am not quite certain that Scott or Robin-
son may be at the Presidency, I have thought it more safe
to address myself to you, to request that you will apply to
them, or, in their absence, to some friend who will under-
take the commission, to provide for me against my arrival
three good and quiet saddle-horses, such as Robinson or
Scott, or those who were in the habit of riding with me,
may judge to be likely to suit me. I shall likewise want a
set of servants for the house upon a similar plan to the
establishment I formerly had. The Consomah who was be-
fore with me was a good man. I shall also want a palanquin,
a phaeton, and a good coach, or chariot, with six carriage-
horses, two of which must be very quiet and proper for the

X797] ^ORD MORNINGTON, x6g

phaeton, I shall bring my successor out with me, and I
shall hope that the object of my mission may be attained in
about a twelvemonth, as you will easily conceive that a long
residence in India will not suit me. It is not probable that
any person will come out with me except Lieutenant-
Colonel Duncan, of the Bengal establishment, and one
aide-de-camp 5 you will oblige me, therefore, if you could,
on my arrival, point out any young man who would act as
my private secretary in Haldane*s situation, and take a
degree of superintendence of my household. I think if Mr
Phillips is settled in Calcutta, and not engaged in commer-
cial concerns, that he would be a proper person.'

But this special mission to India belongs only to the
' History of Events that never happened.' The danger sub-
sided, and with it the alarm. The officers of the Company's
army, under sedative assurances, and satisfying concessions,
began to return to their allegiance, and it was not necessary
to apply the special remedies, of which I have spoken, to a
disease which was dying out by itself. Instead of Lord
Comwallis going out to India as Govemor-Greneral, with
his successor in his train. Lord Momington was selected to
be Govemor-Greneral in succession to Sir John Shore. The
change delighted Lord Comwallis. At the call of his King
and his country, he was ready to go to India — as he would
have gone anywhere, under a strong sense of duty — ^but he
thankfully withdrew from the mission when he was no
longer bound by these loyal considerations to undertake it*
He had faith in the young statesman who had been selected
for office 5 and he saw him depart with pleasure.

' When the shameful conduct of the Bengal officers/

rTO LORD CORNWALLIS. [1797..

he wrote to Mr Barlow, in October, 'threatened India
with immediate ruin, and it was thought that my services
might be of consequence, I did not refuse to come forward*
The business of my instructions was ill-managed here, and
the favourable turn of affairs in Bengal rendered my presence
less necessary. It is not wonderftd, therefore, that I should
avail myself of so fair an excuse to decline an arduous task,
which, from untoward circumstances, I should have under-
taken with peculiar disadvantage. Lord Mornington, your
new Grovernor-General, is a man of very considerable
abilities, and most excellent character. I have known him
from his childhood, and have always lived on the most
friendly habits with him. He goes out with the best and
purest dispositions. He is an enthusiast for the preservation
of that plan of government which, without your powerftil
assistance, could never have been either formed or main-
tained. His Lordship has no private views, nor a wish to
do anything but what is for the public good 5 and I have
taken upon myself to answer that you will have no reserve
with him, either in regard to men or measures. Having
assured you that Lord Mornington thinks exactly as I do
both about India and yourself, I have only to add my sin-
cere good wishes for your health and prosperity, and to ex-
press my hopes that when our dangers are over, we may
meet happily in this country.'

And now we come to an epoch in the great and varied
career of Lord Cornwallis, which, though to the general
student of English history more interesting than any other,
18 the one of which most has been written by others, and
of which I am least called upon to write. In a time of the

X798.] ' LORD'LIEUTENANT OP IRELAND. 171,

greatest trouble and difficulty he was appointed Lord-Lieu-
tenant and Commander-in-Chief in Ireland. Mr Pitt said,
that, in accepting the office, Comwallis had ' conferred the
most essential obligation on the public which it can, perhaps,
ever receive from the services of any individual.' For it
was one of those situations in which no virtue and no wis-
dom can preserve a man wholly from reproach. He had
to combat a great rebellion, and in combating it he was as
merciful as he was resolute and courageous. • But it was a
tiecessity of his position in such a conjuncture that in the
eyes of some he should have done too much, and that in
the eyes of others he should have done too little. Of all
the posts which he ever held, this was the one the tenure of
which was least gratifying to his feelings. * The violence
of our friends,' he wrote to Greneral Ross, ' and their foUy
in endeavouring to make it a religious war, added to the
ferocity of our troops, who delight in murder, most power-
fully counteract all plans of conciliation. The life of a
Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland comes up to my idea of perfect
Inisery 5 but if I can accomplish the great object of consoli-
dating the British Empire, I shall be sufficiently repaid*'
And again, soon afterwards, to the same correspondent:
' Of all the situations which I ever held, the present is by
far the most intolerable to me, and I have oflen within the
same fortnight wished myself back in Bengal.' One of
his troubles was the Irish Militia, who had all the characteis
istic cruelty of cowards. * The Irish Militia,' wrote Com^
wallis to the Duke of Portland, * are totally without disci*
pline, contemptible before the enemy when any serious
resistance was made to them, but ferocious and cruel in the

179" LOUD CORNWALUS. [179^-1801.

extreme when any poor wretches either with or without
atrms come within their power 5 in short> murder appears to
be their favourite pastime.* The intemperate language of
the ultra-loyalists was another source of inquietude to him,
'The minds of people are now in such a state,' he wrote to
the Duke of Portland, ' that nothing but blood will satisfy
them; and, although they will not admit the term, their
conversation and conduct point to no other mode of con*
duding this unhappy business than that of extirpation.*
There were others whose tendencies were towards the oppo-
site extreme j but Lord Comwallis endeavoured to steer a
middle course, and when he wrote to the Duke of Leinster,
saying : ' I hope and trust that to every candid mind the
system of my government will appear conciliatory and
moderate j but if I were to insult the feelings of the loyal,
and to protect the characters and properties of those who
attempted to destroy them, such conduct would not be
called moderation, but criminal weakness * — I think when
he said this he expressed a well-grounded confidence in the
success of his measures, and in the rectitude of principle
which inspired them.

Engaged in these great measures, firstly of suppression
and then of conciliation. Lord Comwallis remained at his
J)ost in Ireland up to the end of May, 1801. He had not
much leisure to think of India, but a letter from Lord
Wellesley, announcing the conquest of Mysore and the
death of Tippoo Sultan, for a while revived his old interest
in the country which he had so long governed. " * This is,
indeed, a great event,* he wrote to General Ross, ' and per-
fectly secures us in that part of the world ; for I think, even

iSoi.} THE PEACE OF AMIB^S. xtj

if Zeman Shah could get to India, that he could not suc^
ceed when deprived of the co-operation of Tippoo/ Soon
afterwards the gratifying intelligence came to him that the
army which had taken Seringapatam, not leas mindful^
perhaps, of his personal generosity, in foregoing his prize*
money, than of his military exploits in the first Mysore war,
had voted him an address, and presented him with the sword
and turban of Tippoo. He was sometimes appealed to in
matters connected with Indian government, and his inter-
position was sought, but he was unvnlling to interfere, and
he was personally reluctant to place himself in opposition to
Mr Dundas, who, he said, had behaved to him ' in a more
fair and friendly manner than any other member of th0
Cabinet.'

Lord CorQwallis, as I have said, crossed the Channel at
the end of May, 1801, but the blessing of repose was not
then within his reaclu A French invasion was at that time
expected, and he was placed [in command of the Eastern
division qi the army — ^ eight weak regiments of militia,' as
he said, ' and two regiments of dragoons/ ' In our wooden
walls alone,* he wrote, a day or two afterwards, ^ must we
place our trust \ we should make a sad business of it pn
shore. But instead of an invasion, there was peace. And
Lord CornwaUis was selected to be the British Plenipoten*
tiary who was to proceed to Amiens to negotiate tlie treaty
with Napoleon, On the 3rd of November, 1 80 1, he crossed
over to Calais, On the i8th of November he wrote to his
^end Barlow in Calcutta, saying : ' I have been so con-r
stantly occupied, and my mind has been so much agitated
by the critical state of public affairs^ and the very important

m LORD CORNWALLIS, • [i8oi-i-x8o3.

part which I was obliged to take in the great questions of
the Union, and the privileges proposed to be granted to th^
Catholics of Ireland, that I could attend to no other mat-
ters. On my return to England, on the change of adminis-
tration, where I expected (after winding up the Irish busi-
ne^, and pacifying those who had claims for services in the
Union contest) to retire and enjoy some quiet, I was called
upon, in consequence of the serious preparations which the
i^'rench were making to invade us, to accept the command
in the Eastern District, and by the date of this letter you
will see that I have now undertaken to put the finishing
hand to the work of peace, which was most ardently desired
by the nation, and which appeared to me. to be necessary

for the preservation of our country The Definitive

Treaty will, I hope, be concluded in a few weeks. Bona-
parte has, for the present, tranquillized France. The people
are kept in excellent order : would to God that the discon-
tented in England could see the state of liberty which this
country, so much the object of their envy, enjojrs 1 All per-
sons here speak with horror of the Revolution.'

At last it seemed that the long-coveted season of repose
was really at hand. The peace of Amiens was concluded j
iuid Lord Comwallis returned to England, and betook him*
self to the coimtry. ' For a long time past,* he wrote firom
Brome, in September, 1802, to the same correspondent, 'I
have been out of the way of knowing what .was going for-
ward respecting India, and it was not until Lord Castlereagh
called on me last week on his way firom Ireland (by Mr
Dundas's house in Scotland) to London, that I had an idea
of the styl^ of letters which have of late been sent by the

1800.] ILORP WBLLESLBY AND THE COMPANY. kiS

Court of Directors to Lord Wellesley.* I most earnestly
hope that matters may be so accommodated as to induce
his Lordship to continue another year in the Government,
which, either with a view to its immediate or future effects,

* In another letter to Barlow, who, it was then held, would
succeed Lord Wellesley, Lord Comwallis wrote : * When you take
upon yourself the burdensome charge of administering the afiairs of
our vast Asiatic Empire, your experience and excellent understanding
Vill, I am persuaded, conduct you safely and with honour through
all difficulties, and in your Eastern government you will not need any
counsel from your friends. But there is one part of your business on
which, as it relates to this coimtry, I will presume to offer some
-friendly advice. The point to which I allude is your correspondence
with the Court of Directors, and your seeming attention to them, on
those subjects in which they have a constitutional right to interfere.
It has &llen in my way to know the embarrassments which the neg*
lect or incivility of Lords* Wellesley and Clive to their honourable
masters have occasioned to the Ministers and the Board of ControL
^ civil to the Directors, and avoid any direct attack on the
authority of the Court, and you may do everything which your
zeal for the public welfare would make you desire. Lord Castlereagh
has fought a hard battle for the College, and has succeeded as &r
as relates to Bengal. I have taken great pains, and I think I
have nearly convinced him, not only that there should be but one
College for all our Indian settlements, but that he should prepare his
inind to look for an early period when the allowances of the servants
bf the subordinate Presidencies should, in proportion to the trust and
labour of their respective offices, be made equal to those in Bengal,
and that it was as well worth while not to force a war to cheat the
Company and rob and oppress their subjects in latitude eleven as in
latitude twenty-three. Had Lord Wellesley thought it worth while
to use a little management with the Court of Directors, he might
have settled his College, or any plan within moderate bounds that
he might have chosen!' On this subject of the College, further in<^
ibrmation is given in the Memoir of Sir Charles Metcalfe, and in the
Appendix.

tj6 LORD CORNWALUS. [iSo2— 1804.

I conceive to be of the utmost importance to the interests

of the British Empire I have now^ retired for ever

£*om all public situation, but my feelings are still alive to
the honour and interests of my country, and I shall to the
etid of my life reflect w^ith the most heartfelt satisfaction,
that by adopting and patronizing your suggestions, I laid
the foundation of a system for the prosperity of our Indian
Empire, which has so gloriously flourished and risen to such
height imder the splendid administration of Lord Wellesley,*
But, brilliant as were these prospects, the time soon
came when the territorial acquisitions of Lord Wellesley
alarmed Lord Comwallis. It seemed to him that our em-
pire was growing too large, and that we should find it
diflicult to administer its affairs with advantage to so
immense a population. On this subject he wrote from
Culford, in August, 1804, putting the whole case in a few
pregnant sentences : ' By the last accounts from India, affain
appear to be in a most prosperous state. You have dictated
the terms of peace, and have obtained every possession in
India that could be desired. The question here from many
p^ons is. Have we not too much ? But I hardly know,
when the power was in our hands, what part of our acqui-
sitions we could prudently have relinquished,' He little
thought, when he wrote this, that out of the state of things
that had then arisen in India, there was growing up that
which in a very little time would draw him again from his
retirement, and compel him to go forth once more with
the harness on his back. But so it was. Lord Wellesley
had been playing the great game with such success, that he
bad brought our Indian Empire to tiie very verge of bank*

1804.] DISSATISFACTION WITH LORD WELLESLEY, 177

ruptcy. And the game was not yet played out. What,
then, was to be done? Lord Wellesley was ambitious.
Lord Wellesley was insubordinate. The advisers in whom
he most trusted counselled him not to throw up the cards.
But there was no money even to carry on the Trade ^ for
the war ingulfed every rupee. To the Directors in Lead-
enhaU-street the crisis of ruin appeared to be imminent.
They stood aghast at the prospect before them. It was
necessary to do something — and that speedily. Nothing
but a change of government would suffice to meet the
difficulties of the case. Orders might be sent to India 5 but
it was one thing to draft instructions, another to secure
obedience to them. It had been arranged that Sir GJeorge
Barlow should succeed Lord Wellesley in the Governo* •
Generalship. But Barlow was a member of- Lord Welles-
ley's Government 5 and the Court of Directors were, there-
fore, alarmed at the thought of his succession. The King's
Ministers concurred in opinion with the Company that it
was desirable to send out an English statesman with no
leanings towards the prosecution of the war — a safe man,
moderate but resolute, and if clothed with the authority of
a great foregone career, so much the better. It was only
in the common course of things that the thoughts of the
Government should have turned at once to Lord Cornwallis.
There was a difficulty — an emergency — and again they
turned to the old quarter for help.

What followed may be told in the words of Lord Corn-
wallis. Writing from Culford, on January 6th, 1805^ ^^
Sir George Barlow, he said : ' I can hardly figure to my-
self the astonishment which you must feel at hearing that

VOL. L 12

178 LORD CORNWALLJS. [1804— i8os.

I am again returning to the station of Governor-General,
and, lest you should suppose that I can in the smallest
degree have altered my sentiments with regard to yourself,
and have ceased to think you capable of discharging the
duties of that office to your own credit, and to the honour
and advantage of the Company and of your coimtry, I take
the earliest opportimity that offers to explain to you in a
few words the circmnstances which have produced this ex-
traordinary event. You will recollect that in the course
of last year I informed you that Lord Wellesley*s neglect
and contemptuous treatment of the Court of Directors
was exceedingly embarrassing to the King's Government
at home. A line of conduct on his part somewhat similar
has of late extended itself to that very Government, and hi»
Majesty's Ministers have been liable to be called upon to
account for measures of great importance, of the causes of
which they were totally ignorant, although opportunities
had offered for communication. I shall enter no further
into these matters, but pass over to what immediately con-
cerns yourself and my appointment. A few weeks ago
Lord Castlereagh came down to this place, and after
some previous conversation about India, informed me
that the dissatisfaction of the Court of Directors with the
conduct of Lord W. had risen to such a height, that it was
absolutely necessary that he should be desired to leave the
Government, that Ministers were very uneasy at the
present state of matters, and expressed the earnest wish ot
his Majesty's confidential servants, that I would for a short
time take the direction of affairs in that country, I an-
swered, that I had not been in the habit of refiising my

i8o4— i8o5.] THE THIRD SUMMONS, 179

services^ whenever they might be thought useful, but that
I was too old for such an undertaking, and I felt it to be
the more unnecessary, as the person named for the success-
ion to the Government was, in my opinion, more capable
of making a satisfactory arrangement than myself. He
then informed me that the appointment of any Company's
servant to the Government-General was at this moment out
of the question 5 and in the particular case alluded to, it
was the more impossible, as the Court of Directors could
by no means be brought to consent to the succession of a
member of Lord Wellesley*s Government, After some
discussion upon this subject, I proposed to undertake the
present mission, provided that on my leaving the coimtry
I could be assured that you were to succeed me. Lord
Castlereagh declared that an assurance of that kind was not
to be expected, and could only say that my going would
open the only chance for your succession. Unemployed
as I have long been, and appeared likely to remain, in the
line of my profession, and, in its present state, useless to
my own family, I have consented to take the rash step of
returning to India, by which, if I should ultimately be the
means of placing the charge of our Asiatic Empire in your
hands, I shall feel that I have rendered an essential service
to my country.'

Truly was it a hazardous duty, which he had thus
undertaken at the age of sixty-five. There was nothing
for which he longed more than for rest. He had an ample
store of honour — he had an ample store of wealth. It was
intended that he should sojourn only for a little while in
India, and he could add but Httle, therefore^ to either store.

i8o LORD CORNWALLIS. [1804—1805.

The service, indeed, upon which he was going, was an un-
popular and a thankless one. He was going upon a service
of peace and retrenchment. Many private mterests were
likely to suffer grievously by the course of severe economy
on which he was about to enter 3 and people, in such a case,
rarely discriminate between the authors and the agents of
the measures which injuriously affect them. War is always
popular in India 5 and there was scarcely a man in the two
services, from the veteran warrior Lake, to the boy-civilian
Metcalfe, who did not utterly abhor and vehemently con-
demn the recreant policy of withdrawing firom the contest
before the great game had been played out. It is scarcely
possible to conceive a mission less attractive than that on
which the fine old soldier now set out, leaving behind him
all that he held most dear, because he felt that it was his
duty to go. It has been said that he ' caught with the
enthusiasm which belongs to good and great minds, at the
prospect of performing one more important service to his
country before he died \ and that he ' listened with avidity
to those who, desirous of the authority of his great name
to their plans, represented to him that his presence alone
could save from inevitable ruin the empire which he had
before ruled with so much glory.' But I doubt whether
he caught with any enthusiasm, or any avidity, at the pro-
posal, honourable as it was to him, and serviceable as it
might be to his country. He did not hesitate to accept
the charge intrusted to him. He had never hesitated in
his life to do, at any cost to hinuelf; that which he believed
hb country demanded from him. But he would fain have
ipent the remaining years of his life in repose. It was not

x8o5.] SECOND GOVERNOR-GENERALSHIP. i8i

the enthusiasm of youth that sent him, but an irresistible
sense of self-denying duty.

Too soon, however, did Lord Cornwallis find that the
task which he had set himself was one beyond his powers
adequately to perform. The hardships of life on board
ship tried him severely. He would not suffer any dis-
tinctions, with respect to food and water, to be made in
his favour, and the vessel was inadequately supplied. The
discomforts to which he was subjected might have been
nothing to a yoimg man in robust health, but they aggra-
vated the growing infirmities of age, and he arrived in
Calcutta in very feeble health. He foimd things there
even in a worse state than he had anticipated. Assuming
the reins of government on the 30th of July, i8oj, he
began at once to perform the imgrateful work which had
been assigned to him. ' Finding/ he wrote two days after-
wards, ' to my great concern, that we are still at war with
Holkar, and that we can hardly be said to be at peace with
Scindiah, I have determined to proceed immediately to the
Upper Provinces, that I may be at hand to avail myself of
the interval, which the present rainy season must occasion
in the military operations, to endeavour, if it can be done
without a sacrifice of our honour, to terminate by negotia-
tion a contest in which the most brilliant success can aiFord
us no solid benefit, and which, if it should continue, must
involve us in pecuniary difficulties, which we shall hardly
be able to surmount.* At this time Lord Wellesley was in
Calcutta, and it devolved upon Sir Greorge Barlow to bridge

i8a LORD CORNWALLIS. [1805.

over the gulf which lay between the old policy and the new,
so as to mitigate as much as possible the evils of an abrupt
and violent transition — to make the new ruler thoroughly
understand the measures of the old, and to reconcile the
old to the measures of the new. In this he succeeded with
wonderful address. The fact is, that Lord Wellesley had
already begun to see plainly that it was wholly impossible
to play the great game any longer with an exhausted
treasury, and with our credit at the lowest ebb,*

♦ At the commencement of a memorandum before me in the hand-
writing of Sir George Barlow, I find it written : * With a view of
giving to Lord Comwallis a correct view of the arrangements which
Lord Wellesley had it in contemplation to make with Scindiah
respecting the territories conquered from him in Hindostan, Sir
George Barlow drew up a letter on the subject addressed to Lord Com-
wallis. This letter was dated the 7th of August, 1805, at which time
both Lord Comwallis and Lord Wellesley were present at Calcutta,
the latter waiting only the completion of the arrangements for his
embarkation for England. Previous to sending this letter to Lord
Comwallis, he enclosed the draft to Marquis Wellesley, who returned
it with a note in his own handwriting in the margin. This note Sir
George Barlow incorporated with the [ ] paragraph of his letter
numbered 26, and then sent the fair draft to Lord Comwallis. This
letter affords evidence (which must supersede whatever has appeared
at variance with it) that it was Lord Wellesley*s intention, whatever
might be his immediate impressions on the subject, to renew our
alliances and connections with the petty states in the north-west of
India as soon as (but not before) he had come to a settlement with
Dawlut Row Scindiah, A lasting peace with Scindiah was the para-
mount consideration in his Lordship's mind, and there is every pre-
sumption that he would not have allowed any fancifid theories of
supposed advantages from taking all these petty states imder our pro-
tection as allies to have interfered with the great objects to be
accomplished by a permanent and satisfactory peace with Scindiah.
It is probable that when he had come to a ftill knowledge of the

x8os.] LAST DA YS, 183

Attended by some of the chief officers of the Secretariat,
and by the members of his own personal Staff, Lord Corn-
wallis embarked on board his state-pinnace, and proceeded
up the river. But it was very soon apparent that he was
breaking down. Day by day the executive officers who
attended him saw that he was growing more feeble, and
that sustained labour was becoming a greater difficulty and
a greater pain. There were times when he could converse
clearly and forcibly on the state of public affairs, and com-
municate to his chief secretary, Mr Edmonstone, the in-
structions which he wished to be conveyed to the leading
functionaries, civil and military, in different parts of the
country j but at others he was wholly incapable of holding
the helm, and the orders which went forth in his name,
though based upon the sentiments which he had been able
to express at intervals, were never supervised by him. I
have before me the daily bulletins of the Govemor-Gen-
eral's health, written by his private secretary, Mr George
Robinson,* to Sir George Barlow, throughout the whole
of September up to the hour of Cornwallis's death. It is
obvious that at the beginning of the former month little
hope was entertained of his final recovery, for he frequently,
in the mornings, fell into fits, attended sometimes with
convulsions, and more frequently with deadly chills 5 and
although he improved as the day advanced, and gained
some strength under the influence of stimulants, it was

gross misconduct of the Rajah of Jergnagur, he would not, as was
the case with Sir George Barlow, have allowed his interests io have
stood in the way of the conclusion of that arrangement'
♦ Afterwards Sir George Robinson.

i84 LORD CORNWALUS. [1805.

plain that his vigour was gone, and that he was gradually
sinking. The actual disease which had developed itself was
dropsy j but his medical attendants were more fearful of
the results of general debility, of which this specific com-
plaint may have been more a consequence than a cause.
And for many hours together there was often extreme
languor, and then a sudden outburst of unexpected physical
and intellectual vigour. Mr Edraonstone received his
political instructions whenever he was capable of issuing
them J and though there was a varying amount of clearness
and distinctness in them, it was plain that he always
thoroughly comprehended the question under consideration.
About the middle of the month there were apparent symp-
toms of improvement 5 but it was considered advisable, as
the pinnace laboured up the river, that, although it might
on some accoimts be advantageous that the Governor-
General should be landed, it would, on the whole, be better
that he should remain on board, to escape the fatigue and
distraction of deputations and addresses, which would pour
in at different points, if it were known that he was on shores
As the month advanced, there were very manifest fluctu-
ations, which sometimes encouraged his friends to hope
that he might yet rally j but towards the close of it these
favourable anticipations ceased, and it was necessary to send
for Sir George Barlow to take up the reins of government.
On the I St of October, Mr Robinson wrote to him, saying
that he feared the hopes they had encouraged were delusive,
'for Lord Cornwallis,* he added, 'has had a very restless
night, attended with a considerable difficulty in breathing
and though he perseveres in not taking to his bed entirely.

xSps-] LAST DA YS, 185

and probably will do so to the last, I feel no confidence in
his existence being prolonged even from hour to hour, so ex-
tremely feeble and weak is he become. Yet in this state,
his anxiety for the accomplishment of those objects to which
his valuable life will ultimately fall a sacrifice, adheres to
him still ; he is impatient of detention here, speaks of the
impropriety of delays, has inquired after Edmonstone, and
asked whether any news was received to-day from Malcolm.
I have no idea, however, that he can survive to the period
of your arrival, and in his present weak state I cannot say
I wish he should, as it could only wound your feelings, as
much as it does ours, to see him in a condition which pre-
cludes all' rational hope of a recovery. I shall watch, how-
ever, his most conscious moments, and many such occur
through the day, to tell him that you entirely concur in all
the principal points of the plan, submitted by way of out-
line at first, but subsequently put into the form of official
instructions to Lord Lake, for a final arrangement with
Scindiah 3 and if anything can afford him satisfaction, I
think the assurance of this will.' On the 3rd, the report
was that the Governor-Greneral was growing weaker and
weaker 5 and on the jth of October it was announced that,
at a quarter past seven on the evening of that day, ' our most
revered friend quitted the world without pain or struggle.'
He seemed to have died from absolute exhaustion.

And so passed away one of the best and most blameless
men that have ever devoted their lives to the service of
their country. He was not inspired by any lofty genius,
but in no man, perhaps, in the great muster-roll of English
Heroes, can it truly be said that there were more serviceable

x86 LORD CORNWALLIS. [1805.

qualities, more sterling integrity, and a more abiding sense
of Public Duty. For Duty he lived and he died. I do
not know in the whole range of our history a more reliable
man — a man who in his time was more trusted for the safe
performance of duties of a very varied character. But, as
I have said at the outset of this sketch, I have selected his
life for illustrativn occnuse no man cd more to purify the
public services of Indii». and to make the writing of such a
book as this a privilege and a pleasure to the biogiapher.

18;

SIR JOHN MALCOLM.

t&ORN 1769.— DIED 1»33.]

A SHORT hour*s walk from the thriving little town of
Langholm^ in Dumfries-shire, there lived and toiled
an industrious farmer, named Greorge Malcolm, who culti-
vated an estate known as ' Bumfoot,* and lived there, on the
beautiftd banks of the Esk, surrounded by a fine family of
children at that time far from complete. He was a man of
more than common enlightenment for his station, for he
had been trained for the Church, and, better still, of sterl-
ing integrity of character. His wife, too— a member of the
Pasley family — ^was a woman excellent in all domestic
relations, and of intelligence of a high order. As they
dwelt together there, at Burnfoot, on the 2nd of May,
1 769, a fourth son was bom unto them, who in due course
was christened John. It happened that on the very day
before there came into the world one who was afterwards
one of John Malcolm's closest friends, and the greatest man
of the age in which he lived — Arthur Wesley, or Wellesley,
known to a later generation as the Duke of Wellington —
the ' Great Duke.' *

• Napoleon the First was bom in the same year.

i88 5/^ JOHN MALCOLM. [1769-

I have no passion for the discovery of juvenile pheno-
mena. I do not know that John Malcolm differed much
from other healthy, robust, intelligent boys, such as swarm
in all parts of our country. He was very good at ' paddling
in the burn,* from which the name of the paternal estate
was derived. Perhaps he was rather prone towards mischief,
and not as industrious as could have been wished. He was
rather given to the bad habit of putting off the learning of
his lessons until he was fairly on the start for the parish
school, when he trudged up the hiU book in hand, and eye
intent on the page. The schoolmaster used to say, when
any wild pranks of mysterious origin had been committed,
* Jock's at the bottom of it.* There was not always good
evidential proofs of this, but worthy Archibald Graham had
ever a strong conviction of the fact, and solemnly enunciated
his belief that Jack, who was indeed the scapegrace, per-
haps the scapegoat, of the family, was profoundly ' at the
bottom of it * — deep in amidst the mud, not of the trans-
parent Esk^ but of some slough imagined by the worthy
preceptor of Westerkirk.*

It is not forbidden to us to believe that Promotion
cometh from the North. In those days an astonishing
amount of patronage tell upon the striving inhabitants of
Scotland and the Border. It may seem strange that a
yeoman of Dumfries-shire should have the power of pro-
viding, in all the finest services open to the nation, one after

• Mr Graham lived to see his old pupil recognized by the world
both as a man of thought and a man of action. Malcolm is said to
have sent him a copy of the * History of Persia,' with * Jock's at the
bottom of it * written on the title-page.

1781—83.] 'EARLY EXPERIENCES, 189

another, for a number of brave, clever Eskdale boys. But
so it was. Robert, the eldest, had permission from the
East India Company to go out to shake the pagoda-tree,
as a member of their Civil Service. James, the second son
(afterwards Sir James), received a commission in the
Marines. For the third son, Pulteny (afterwards Admiral
Sir Pulteny), a midshipman's berth was provided. And
John, as soon as he was old enough, was set down for the
Company's military service. He was only eleven years old
when his father received, through the Johnstones of Alva,
an offer of an appointment in the Indian Army 5 but John
was then too young to go abroad. Soon afterwards, how-
ever, his uncle, John Pasley, a thriving merchant, carried
him up to London, and was anxious, above all things, to
qualify him to ' pass at the India House.* But the good
uncle, in November, 1781, wrote that, although tall of his
age, Johnny would certainly not pass. In this he was
altogether wrong. The experiment was made. John
Malcolm went up, nothing daunted, before an august
assemblage of Directors. They were pleased by his
juvenile appearance and his good looks, and one of them
said, ' My little man, what would you do if you went to
meet Hyder Ali ? ' ' Do ! ' said the boyish aspirant 5 ' why,
sir, I would out with my sword and cut off his head.'
Upon which evidence of spirit and determination they
declared that he ' would do,' and forthwith passed him as a
cadet. It was not necessary that he should sail immediately j
so his good uncle put him to school again in the neighbour-
hood of London 5 and not until the month of April, 1783,
did the ship which conveyed him to India anchor in the

tgo SIJ^ JOHN MALCOLM. [1783— «4.

Madras Roads.* The family connections^ who received
him on his arrival, wrote to Burnfoot that Jack had grown
a head and shoulders on the voyage, and was one of the
finest and best-tempered lads ever seen in the world.

When John Malcolm arrived in India, the French and
English were contesting the possession of Southern India.
John went with his friends to Vellore to do garrison duty
there, as he was considered too young to take the field.
Peace, however, having been declared in the West, the
English and French left off fighting in the East 5 and so the
former had nothing to do but to carry on, without any dis-
tractions, the war against the great Mahomedan usurpers of
Mysore. Hyder Ali had died without the aid of Johnny
Malcolm's sword, and Tippoo raged in his stead. After a
while, however (1784), a treaty of peace was signed, and
an exchange of prisoners was decreed. This interchange
sent young John Malcolm on his first detached service.
The English prisoners were to be brought to our frontier,
and there received by a detachment of British troops.
John Malcolm was appointed to command this detach-
ment, which was to meet Major (afterwards Sir Thomas)
Dallas, who wa? to convey them safely br;]''ond the territory
of Mysore. When Dallas met the detachment coming
from the Company's territories, he saw a slight, rosy,
healthy-looking English boy astride on a rough pony, and
asked him for his commanding officer. ' I am the com-
manding officer,* said John Malcolm, drawing himself up

• In the following year (1784), fifteen was fixed as the minimum
age for entrance into the Company's Military Service, by Act of Par-
liament—Pitt's India Bill.

1784—88.] FIRST YEARS IN INDIA, 191

on his saddle. Dallas smiled ; but the friendship which
then commenced between the two lasted until it was severed
by the death of the elder man.

John Malcolm went out so very young to India — he
was a commissioned officer and his own master at an age
when, in England, boys were commonly subjected to the
discipline of the flogging-block — that if he did not at first
make use of his liberty and his pseudo-manhood in the
most virtuous and forbearing manner, there is nothing very
surprising in the failure. He was assailed by many tempta-
tions, and, being of a frank, open, unsuspecting nature, he
went astray before he knew whither he was tending. He
was generous, open-hearted, and open-handed. He got
into debt, and suffered for it. He did not, as some are
wont to do in such an extremity 5 he did not wipe out old
obligations by incurring new. But he set to work right
manfully to extricate himself. He stinted and starved |
and it is recorded of him that an old native woman in the
regimental bazaar, taking compassion upon his youth,
implored him to receive supplies from her, to be paid for at
his convenience. For this act of kindness and himianity he
was ever grateful 5 and it did not merely take the shape of
words, for, in after days, he settled a pension on her for the
rest of her life.

Soon better days began to dawn upon him. He was
contrite, and confessed his errors ; and he wrote home that
he was afi*aid his parents would think that all their good
advice had been quite thrown away upon him. * I must
own, to my shame,' he said, ' that you had too much reason
to think so. All that I now expect is, that my friends will

iga S/ie JOHN MALCOLM, [1788-^

forget the past part of my conduct.* And firom that time
(1788) he never relapsed, but went forward steadily to the
great goal of honourable success.

A life of active service was now before him. The
peace was at an end. Tippoo had broken it by ravaging
the country of our ally, the Rajah of Travancore, and Lord
Cornwallis had taken the field against him. Of the events
of the two campaigns which followed I have spoken in the
preceding Memoir. The regiment to which John Malcolm
was attached was ordered to co-operate with the troops of
the Nizam. On this service he was exposed to great hard-
ships, and first learnt the realities of Indian war. There
was little resistance, however, to the progress of our troops
until they came to Copoulee. There he saw how a strong
Indian fortress may resist for months the fire of European
artillerjf. For six months Copoulee held out, and then the
garrison surrendered under the moral influence engendered
by the fall of Bangalore to CornwalHs's army. Not long
afterwards, Malcolm's regiment joined the main army of
the Nizam, which was pushing forward to co-operate with
the British troops then marching on Seringapatam. In the
Nizam*s camp he made the acquaintance of two of the
foremost of our poHtical or diplomatic officers — Sir John
Kennaway and Mr Graeme Mercer.* A new ambition

• As the terms * Political Officer* and * Political Department*
win be found of frequent occurrence in these Memoirs, it may be ad-
visable to explain that in the phraseology of the Anglo-Indian
Government * political ' means diplomatic, and something more. The
duties of a political officer are mainly in connection with the Native
States of India, or with the princes and chiefs who have governed
Native States ; but sometimes their functions are of an administrative

I790-9X-] PREPARING FOR WORK, i<)3

then stirred within him. He asked himself whether he
also might not detach himself from 'the formalities of
regimental life, become a diplomatist, and negotiate great
treaties with the Native powers.

He was now a man full-grown, tall and handsome^ and
of such a cheerful address, that he carried sunshine with
him whithersoever he went. He was remarkably active and
fond of sport, and so playful, that he went by the name of
*Boy Malcolm,' and retained it long after he was well
advanced in years, and had attained high office in the State.
But he had begun seriously to consider that it was his duty
to earn a reputation as something more than a crack shot
and a noted gymnast. The first step towards this was the
study of the native languages; and Mr Graeme Mercer,
taking a fancy for the youth, encouraged his desire to learn
Persian, and gave him the use of his own Moonshee. Of
the opportunity thus afforded him he made good use.
Nor was the study of the languages the only improving
pursuit to which he devoted himself. He applied himself
to the investigation of Indian history, and endeavoured to
master the principles by the observance of which our great
Indian empire had been founded, and on which alone it
could be maintained. In the prosecution of this, he began
diligently to record upon paper the results of his inquiries
and the substance of his reflections, and ixova that time to
the end of his days he was ever a great writer. In the

as well as of a diplomatic character ; and, in attendance upon an
army in the field, they conduct negotiations, advise, and sometimes
control the militaxy authorities, superintend the Intelligence Depart-
ment, and often collect the supplies.
VOL. L 13

iS^ ' 5/^ JOHN MALCOLM. {vj^x.

entries, scattered over a large collection of manuscript
books, may be seen at how early a period he formed, and
how consistently he clung to, the opinions of that best
school of Indian statesmanship of which he lived to be one
of the greatest teachers. He was only a subaltern in a
Sepoy regiment when he wrote : ' An invariable rule ought
to be observed by all Europeans who have connections with
the natives of India — never to practise any art or indirect
method of gaining their end, and, from the greatest occasion
to the most trifling, to keep sacred their word. This is not
only their best but their wisest policy. By this conduct
they will observe a constant superiority in all their trans-
actions 3 but when they act a different part— -when they
condescend to meet the smooth-tongued Mahomedan or
the crafty Hindoo with the weapons of flattery, dissimula-
tion, and cunning, they will of a certainty be vanquished,'
I have said that it was John Malcolm's great ambition
to obtain an appointment in the Political Department,
After a while, he thought that he saw an opening. A sub-
ordinate post was vacant j he appHed for it, and was just
half an hour too late. It had been bestowed upon another
young officer. His disappointment and vexation were great.
He went back to his tent, flung himself down on his
couch, and gave way to a flood of tears. But he lived, as
many a man before and since has lived, to see in his first
crushing miscarriage the crowning mercy of his life. The
officer who carried off the prize so coveted by John
Malcolm went straight to his death. On his first appear-
ance at the Native Court, at whiph he was appointed an
assistant to the Resident, he was murdered. This made a

f793.] FIRST STAFF APPOINTMENT. 195

deep impression at the time on Malcolm's mind, and
was ever afterwards gratefully remembered. He often
spoke of it in later days, as an illustration of the little
that man knows of what is really for his good, and he
taught others, as he himself had learnt, never to repine at
the accidents and mischances of life, but to see in all the
hand of an all-mercifiil Providence working benignly for
our good.

In God's time, however, that which he sought came ;
and John Malcolm received his first appointment. *J
served,* he wrote many years afterwards, 'as a regi-
mental officer, with European and Native corps (without
ever having one week's leave of absence), for nine years.
In 1792, when at Seringapatam, I was appointed Persian
interpreter to the detachment serving with the Nizam, by
the Marquis Cornwallis, on the express ground of being
the officer with that corps best qualified for the station.'
His foot was now on the ladder of promotion 5 but, for a
while, his upward progress was checked by the failure of
his health. Continued exposure to the climate had done
its sure work upon him 5 and he was compelled to return
to England, He did not like it 5 but his friends persuaded
him to take the advice of his physicians, and he consented,
with less reluctance, perhaps, than he would otherwise
have felt, . because Sir Johii Kenneway, his friend and
patron in the political service, was going home also, and
proposed to take young Malcolm with him.

It was great joy to him, and great joy to others, when
John Malcolm reappeared in Eskdale, a fine, handsome
young man, reinvigorated by the voyage, with an unfail-»

igfi sue JOHN MALCOLM. [i79S-^

ing supply of animal spirits, and an inexhaustible budget
of amusing and instructive talk. Great dajrs were those
at Bumfoot, when John sat by the fire and told to the
admiring family circle pleasant stories of all that he had
seen and heard in the Far East. But, having a career
before him, he was not one to protract his stay in England
a day longer than was perfectly necessary for the restora-
tion of his health, so he returned to India, and under happy
auspices, for he went out as aide-de-camp to General
(afterwards Sir Alured) Clarke, who had been appointed
Commander-in-Chief of the Madras Army. On his way
out they stopped at the Cape of Good Hope ; found the
English and Dutch at open war 3 and were present at the
operations which ended in the transfer of the settlement to
the English, by whom, save for a short interval, it has ever
since been retained.

When, in the cold weather of 179J-96, John Malcolm
dgain found himself at Madras, he was still a subaltern ;
but he was on the staff of the Commander-in-Chief. ' I
am well,' he wrote to his mother, * and situated in every
respect as I could wish. I am secretary to General Clarke,
who is, without exception, one of the best men I ever
knew. The employment is of that nature as to leave me
hardly one idle moment-^all the better you wiU say, and
all the better / say.' But this did not last long. General
Clarke was transferred to the chief command of the army
in Bengal, and there were circumstances which prevented
him from appointing John Malcolm to the military secret-
aryship in that Presidency. But though his old master was
gone, the office which he had held was hot lost to him

«79S-96.] FURTHER PROMOTION. 197

also, for Sir Alured Clarke's successor invited Malcolm to
remain as his Secretary and Interpreter. The Colonel
Harris of the preceding Memoir, who had served on the
staff of Greneral Medows, was now Greneral Harris, Com-
mander-in-Chief and temporarily Governor of Madras 5 *
and he was glad to receive Malcolm into his house, and to
welcome him as a member of his family.

In this situation John Malcolm was sufficiently happy $
but the personal staff of a Commander-in-Chief, or even of
a Grovernor, or Govemor-Greneral, afforded no great scope
for the development of his powers, and he still longed
for employment in the diplomatic line of the service. His
next advancement, however, was in the military direction,
for he was appointed Town-Major of Madras — in those
da3rs, an honourable and a lucrative office. But his hopes
were about speedily to be realized, in a manner wholly
imexpected. Lord Wellesley — then Lord Momingtoh —
went out to India as Grovemor-Greneral, and, on his way to
Calcutta, touched at Madras. There he made the acquaint-
ance of John Malcolm, by that time a Captain in the army,
who sent his Lordship some reports which he had drawn
up, on our relations with the native states of India, espe-
cially the state of Hyderabad in the Deccan. The result
was, that soon after his arrival in Bengal, the Governor-

* Colonel Harris had gone home with Sir William Medows af.
the end of the first Mysore war, but had returned to India at the end
of 1794 to rejoin his r^ment in Calcutta. Soon afterwards he was
appointed commandant of Fort William, but lost his conmiand on
promotion to the rank of Major-General. He was about to return
home, when he received an intimation that he had been appointed
Commandei-in-Chief at Madras.

198 : SIR JOHN MALCOLM. [1798.

Greneral offered him an appointment as assistant to the
Resident at the Nizam*s Court 5 so, without loss of time»
Captain Malcolm proceeded to the chief city of the Dec-
can, and was soon in the thick of an exciting political
Contest.

At the Court of Hyderabad the French had for some
time been making effectual progress. French officers had
disciplined, and now commanded, several battalions of the
Nizam*s troops. * Assignments of territory,* it has been
said, ' had been made for their payment. Foundries were
established imder competent European superintendence.
Guns were cast. Muskets were manufactured. Admirably
disciplined and equipped, Raymond's levies went out to
battle with the colours of revolutionary France floating
above them, and the Cap of Liberty engraved on their
buttons.* Such a state of things could not be suffered to
endure, on the eve of a great war with Tippoo 5 so Lord
Wellesley determined to make a bold stroke for the
destruction of the French force at Hyderabad. The con-
sent of the Nizam was obtained ; but it was still necessary
to do it by a coup d'itat, for which the British must be
responsible* There was a considerable body of British
troops at no .great distance from the Residency, and with
these Kirkpatrick, the Resident, and his assistant, Malcolm,
determined to accomplish their object. Fortunately, it
happened that at the critical moment the troops were
mutinying against their officers, because they were in
arrears of pay, and had made a prisoner of their French
commandant. Malcolm was sent down to allay the tumult ;
but the crowd would not listen to him* They said that

1798.] THE FRENCH CORPS AT HYDBJiABAD, 199

they would treat him as they had treated their own officers.
And they were about to lay violent hands upon him, when
some Sepoys of the French battalion, who had formerly
been in the Company's Army, and served in John Mal-
colm's regiment, recognized him, and remembering many
old kindnesses done to them by their English officer, went
at once to the rescue. They lifted him up above the crowd,
and bore him on their heads to a place of safety, out of the
reach of the exasperated mob of mutinous Sepoys.

How the French corps was afterwards dispersed, without
the shedding of a drop of blood, is a matter of history, on
which, however interesting, I cannot afford to enlarge. It
was Malcom's first great lesson in the stirring business of
that Apolitical department,* whose concerns often savour
more of war than of diplomacy, and are more peril-laden
than the fiercest conflicts in the field. But the Go-
vernor-General had summoned him to Calcutta 5 and,
the French corps dispersed, he set out with all possible
speed to join the Vice-Regal Court in the great City of
Palaces. He carried with him, as a palpable embodiment
of success, the colours of the annihilated French battalions.
At the capital, he was warmly welcomed. The Governor-
General — no. mean judge of character — saw at once that he
was a man to be trusted and to be employed. In truth,
this meeting with Lord Wellesley was the turning-point of
John Malcolm's career. From that day his future was
made. He found in the Governor-General a statesman
after his own heart 5 and Lord Wellesley listened attentively
to all that was said by the political assistant, because he
ibund in John Malcolm's ready words fit and forcible ex-

SIJi JOHN MALCOLM. [1798—99.

pression of the opinions which were taking shape in his
mind.

Eager for action, the young Goveraor-Ger ;ral,on his first
arrival in India, had contemplated the immediate renewal
of the war with Tippoo, and had directed the authorities
of Madras at once to commence hostilities. Mr Webbe,
whom the Duke of Wellington afterwards described as one
of the ablest and honestest men he ever knew, was Chief
Secretary. He knew what wkere the resources of the
Government better than any man in the country ^ he knew
that there was an empty treasury and an army on a peace
establishment 5 and he was so startled by the announcement
that the Governor-General purposed at once to plunge into
war with so powerful an enemy as Tippoo, that he declared
he could see nothing in the prospect but the most shocking
disasters to our arms and the impeachment of Lord Mom-
ington for his temerity. Greneral Harris, with the true in*
stinct of the soldier, prepared at once to obey orders, and
said that he would use his own funds for the purpose, to
the last rupee, if there was no money in the Treasury. But
he strongly protested against the immediate commencement
of hostilities, as something hazardous in the extreme 5 and
the Governor-General had consented to pause. There was
then a season of active preparation 5 apd when Malcolm
reached Calcutta, he learnt that there was no thought of
further delay. The disarming of the French corps at Hy-
derabad had removed not the least of our difficulties, for
there was hope now of effective assistance from the Nizam.
The want of money had been a grievous stumbling-block j
but what the pubUc treasury could not supply, private pa-

X798-99.1 PREPAY A TIONS FOR WAR. m

triodsm and liberality readily advanced. The Governor-
General set the example by subscribing a lakh and twenty
thousand rupees towards a new loan — an example which
was nobly followed by a large number of European and
native money-holders 5 and so, from private sources, within
a short time, a considerable sum was raised to defray the
expenses of the war. Thus treasure was found. Stores of
all kinds had been collected ^ carriage had been drawn fi'om
every part of the country j and the scattered components of
the Coast Army gathered into one effective whole, well
organized, well equipped, and well commanded.

The time had now come when the personal presence
of the Governor-General at Madras was needed, either to
negotiate peace or to expedite war ; so at the end of the
year. Lord Mornington accompanied by Malcolm and
others, sailed for Madras to meet the new Governor, Lord
Clive, and to take counsel with him and the Commander-
in-Chief. He found those two authorities acting zealously
and harmoniously together. He had great confidence in
Harris, and he at once offered him the command of the
expedition. But, with rare modesty, the General, mistrust-
ing his own powers, suggested the expediency of placing
the chief conduct of operations in the more experienced
hands of Sir Alured Clarke. The Governor-General re-
commended him not hastily to decline a command which
might lead him to fame and fortune, but to take a night to
consider well, and to weigh against each other, all the con-
sequences of the acceptance or rejection of such an offer,
and to announce his decision on the morrow. On the
following morning, when he went in to Lord Mornington,

floa . SIR JOHN MALCOLM. [1798-99.

the cheerfiilness of his counteaance rendered words unne-
cessaiy^ and before he had spoken, the Governor-General
had congratulated Harris on his decision, and comnaended
his wisdom in accepting the command.*^

For Malcolm himself, employment had been marked
out> and of a kind to demand all his energies. He was
appointed to accompany the Hyderabad troops, which, in
accordance with our engagements with the Nizam, were to
co-operate with the British Army in the invasion of Mysore
and the assault of Seringapatam. In effect, this political
superintendence was little less than the military command
of the Nizam's force, and he hastened to join the Head-
quarters of the Allies, assured that there was stirring work
before them. It was no easy matter to enforce discipline
among a body of Sepoys, large numbers of whom had be-
longed to the old French corps } so Malcolm was not sur-
prised that one of his first duties was to quell a dangerous
mutiny that threatened to turn the Nizam's army into a
vast rabble. He accomplished this hazardous work with a
mixture of courage and address, which won the admiration
of the Nizam's commander, Meer Allum, and of another
far greater man. The British subsidiary force, which had
marched at the same time from Hyderabad, had consisted
wholly of Company's Sepoys. But afterwards it was con-
sidered advisable to attach an European regiment to this
force, and his Majesty's 33rd Regiment, then stationed at
Vellore, was selected for this duty. The regiment was
commanded by Colonel the Honourable Arthur Wellesley,
brother of the Governor-General, who took command of

* Lushington's Life of Harris.

1799.] ^-D VANCE OF THE AKMY, 903

the whole force ; and the friendship which then commenced
between Colonel Wellesley and Captain Malcolm endured,
without intermission, until, nearly thirty-five years after-
wards, the Duke of Wellington mourned, with all the ten-
derness of his he^, the death of his old comrade. General
Sir John Malcolm. .

The Head-qu.arters of the Army were fixed at Vellore ;
and on the 29th of January, General Harris assumed com*
mand. The season was far advanced for the commence*
ment of such an expedition, and he could not contemplate
the work before him without some gloomy forebodings.
The disastrous retreat of the army under Lord Cornwallis
some eight years before — a calamity of which the General
had been a witness and a partaker — ^recurred forcibly to his
recollection 5 the evil consequences of a scarcity of carriage
and provisions in the enemy's country were ever present to
his mind -, and he steadfastly resolved that nothing should
•draw him aside from the main object of his expedition-
nothing induce him to waste his time and his resources on
the march to Seringapatam. It was his fixed resolve to
march straight upon the capital, never pausing, unlera
compelled by the positive opposition of Tippoo's army in-
tercepting his line of march, to strike a single blow by the
w^ay. To this resolution he steadily adhered. The army
-commenced its march. It was a splendid force, *The
army of the Carnatic,* wrote Lord Mornington to General
Harris, 'is unquestionably the best appointed, the most
completely equipped, the most amply and liberally supplied,
the most perfect in point of discipline, and the most fortun-
ate in the acknowledged experience and abilities of ite

^ S/jR yOHN MALCOLM. [1799.

officers in every department, which ever took the field in
India/ On the 6th of March this fine army, accompanied
by the Nizam's contingent, which Malcohn had hurried
forward with surprising rapidity, had crossed the frontier of
Tippoo's dominions, and on the following morning it com-
menced its march upon Seringapatam.

On the 4th of April, the British Army were encamped
in sight of the celebrated stronghold of Tippoo Sultan. The
march had been a difficult and a distressing one. The
cattle attached to the army of the Camatic had died oS by
scores. The loss of carriage had necessarily been attended
by a considerable loss of commissariat and ordnance stores ;
and there being no possibility, in the heart of the enemy's
country, of obtaining fresh cattle to supply the place of
those which had fallen dead by the wayside, it was at one
time feared that the European soldiers would be necessitated
to take the place of the draft bullocks, and drag the heavy
ordnance along the remainder of the way to Seringapatam.
Fortunately, however, Tippoo in the first instance had come
to the determination of attacking the auxiliary force advanc-
ing from the Bombay side 5 and it was not until the 27th
of March that the grand army under Greneral Harris was
engaged with the enemy. This engagement took place at
Malavelly, whither Tippoo had despatched a force to inter-
cept the progress of the British, and was the precursor of a
career of victory, Tippoo's troops, after much hard fight-
ing, and a fine display of British generalship, were dispersed ;
but the British force was not in a condition to follow up
the success by a pursuit of the enemy, whose loss in the
affair is, however, estimatedj at two thousand. On the

1799] T^HE ARMY REACHES SERINGAPA TAM, 20s

following day, (xeneral Harris steadily continued his march
towards the banks of the Cavery, and halted at Angara-
pooram. Here he came to the resolution of abandoning
the direct road, and crossing the river near Soosilly, so as
to attack the western front of Seringapatam, and at the
same time facilitate the junction with the Bombay troops.
This masterly prbject was put into execution, and crowned
with complete success. Whilst Tippoo was looking for the
advance of the British along the direct road to Seringapa-
tam which had been taken by Lord Cornwallis, the British
troops were crossing the Cavery and encamping near the
fort of Soosilly. When the Sultan discovered that he had
been so completely out-generaled, he was filled with alarm
and despau*. Summoning his principal officers, he exclaim-
ed, ' We have arrived at our last stage — ^what now are we
to do } What is your determination ? ' They all replied
that they would die with him.

It would be difficult to over-estimate the delight and
gratitude of (xeneral Harris on finding himself with his fine
army and splendid battering train, under the walls of Se-
ringapatam. The march had been long and hazardous ;
the impedimenta of the expedition far more cimibrous than
any that had ever accompanied an Anglo-Indian army in
the field. An untoward check might at any hour have
baffied all the plans of the British Government, and sent
back this immense army to the point from which it started,
after enduring all the misery of a long, disastrous, and dis-
creditable retreat. It was necessary that the force should
reach Seringapatam within a certain time j an obstruction
of a few weeks would have rendered it impossible for any

«)6 S/Ji JOHN MALCOLM. . 11799.

human combination of energy and skill to bring the war
to a successful termination. Had the march of (xeneral
Harris been lengthened out until the setting in of the mon^
soon, he must have retired, re infectd, across the confines of
the Company's dominions. But now the proud heights of
that renowned fortress, from .which Tippoo had so long
snorted defiance at the British Government, rose up before
the eyes of the delighted commander. There was great
work for him to do, and, under Providence, he felt equal
to its accomplishment.

On the 4th of May all was ready for the assault. The
Btorming party had been told off, and the hour fixed for their
advance had nearly arrived, when Malcolm entered the
:tent of the Commander-in-Chief. The General was sitting
alone, very gravely pondering the important work before
him and the great interests at stake, ^ Why, my Lord, so
thoughtful ? ' cried Malcolm, congratulating him, by anti-
cipation, on the peerage within his reach. The lightness
of his tone was not pleasing to the overburdened General,
.who answered sternly, ^Malcolm, this is no time for com-
pliments. We have serious work in hand j don't you see
that the European sentry over my tent is so weak from
want of food and exhaustion, that a Sepoy coidd push hinj
down ? We must take this fort, or perish in the -attempt.
I have ordered General Baird to persevere in his attack to
the last extremity. If he is beaten off, Wellesley is to pro-
ceed with the troops from the trenches. If he should no.t
succeed, I shall put myself at the head of the remainder of
the army ; for success is necessary to our existence.' *

* Lushington's Life of Lord Harris. Mr Lushington «ays that
this story was narrated to him by Sir John Malcolm in 1813,

i;99-I CONQUEST OF MYSORE. 907

Malcolm never doubted for a moment that the issue of
that day's conflict would be a crowning victory to our
British Army, But the result was even greater than he
anticipated, Seringapatam was carried by assault j Mysore
lay prostrate at the feet of the Allies 5 and all that was left
of Tippoo Sultaun was found in a gateway among a heap
of slain. It was but the simple language of truth which
Malcolm employed when he wrote to Lord Hobart, saying,
^ On the 4th of May all our labours were crowned by the
completest victory that ever crowned the British annals in
India, A state that had been the rival of the Company for
nearly thirty years was on that day wholly annihilated.'
The great Mahomedan usurpation of Southern India had
thus suddenly collapsed in a day 5 and the country governed
by the usurper became by right of conquest the property of
the Allies. It might then have been divided between the
British Government and the Nizam j but the Governor-
General, then only in his novitiate, and not unmindful,
perhaps, in that early stage of his career, of the prohibitory
clauses in the Act of 1793, by which the Parliament ol
Great Britain vainly endeavoured to stem the tide of Indian
conquest, shrank from so great an extension of empire as
the appropriation of the whole of the conquered country by
the Allies would have entailed upon the British Govern-
ment. Perhaps, too, there may have been^ as the very
natural growth of the violence of the French Revolution,
some sentiments, in English breasts, in favour of legitimacy,
and that the hard fate of the wretched Bourbons of Mj^or^
might have excited the sympathies of our English statesmen
in India, But whether it were mere policy, or whether
there were blended with it any sense of justice, or any feel-

ao8 SIX JOHN MALCOLM, [1799;

ing of compassion^ it was decreed that a large portion of
the conquered country should be erected into a new
Hindoo principality, under the government of a descendant
of the old Rajahs of Mysore. A descendant was found — a
mere child 5 and his legitimacy was acknowledged. So
the British took a slice of^the conquered country 3 the
Nizam took another slice ; and each Government sur-
rendered a great part of its share of the territorial spoil to
establish the new Hindoo kingdom of Mysore. On a
given day. Colonel Kirkpatrick, as the representative of
the British Government, and Meer Allum, as the repre-
sentative of the Nizam, each taking one hand of the boy-
prince, placed him upon the guddee ; and, as I write, the
aged Maharajah is the only actor in that scene who now
survives.

The arrangement thus briefly described was wrought
into enduring shape by a Conmiission, of which John
Malcolm was one of the secretaries. His associate was
Thomas Munro, who rose afterwards to the highest seat in
the Government of Madras, and for whom Malcolm ever
entertained both the warmest affection and the highest
respect.* The members of the Commission were General
Harris, the two brothers of the Governor-General, Arthur
and Henry Wellesley, Colonel Kirkpatrick, and Colonel
Barry Close. The Commission was in work only for a

* Sir Thomas Munro was so emphatically^ 'representative man,'
that I should have included him in tiiis series of biographies, if my
friend tiie Chaplain-General had not so entirely exhausted tiie subject
— «o pleasantiy and so instructively — as to leave me nothing new to
say about his hero.

1799] THE FIRST PERSIAN MISSION. 209

single month, in continual communication with the Go-
vernor-Greneral, who tarried at Madras j but in that space
two treaties were negotiated, which placed the division of
the conquered country, and the provision to be made for
Tippoo's family, upon a footing so permanent, that up to
the present time the results of that May-day fighting have
never ceased to be an ever-recurring source of trouble and
perplexity to the Govemments of India at home and
abroad. There are no docimients to which more frequent
references are made than to the Partition and Subsidiary
Treaties of Mysore.

When the Subsidiary Treaty had been concluded, the
Commission was dissolved. Malcolm had done his duty so
well — indeed, he had altogether so strongly recommended
himself, by his good service, to the Governor-Greneral — that
Lord Mornington, when the work of the Commission was
complete, offered him far higher employment. He selected
him to proceed on a mission to the Persian Court. In those
days, we knew httle or nothing of that country. But
Zemaun Shah, the Ruler of Afghanistan, had been sus-
pected of intriguing with Tippoo and with the deposed
Prince of Oude,* and we had visions of the French disport-
ing in the background. The anti-Gallican tendencies of
Lord Wellesley and of Captain Malcolm were equally
strong, and the latter rejoiced all the more in the honour-
able appointment that had been offered to him, because
there was a grand opportunity before him of check-mating
France in the regions of Central Asia.f

* Vizier Ali.

t Malcolm described the object of the mission in these words :
VOL. I. 14

2 to SII^ JOHN MALCOLM, [1799- i8oo.

At the end of the year 1 799, Captain John Malcohn,
being then in his thirty-first year, sailed from Bombay to
the Persian Gulf, After visiting Muscat, he steered for
Bushire, where he landed, and made his preparations to
advance into the interior of the country. This, however,
was not very easily accomplished, for he was continually
being arrested by absurd formahties, at which he laughed
with the utmost possible good humour 3 but, at the same
time, maintained the dignity of the great nation which he
represented, by demanding from the Persian Government
all the respect which he yielded on the part of his own.
But he did not wrap himself up in his diplomacy. He was
ever an enthusiast in the acquisition of knowledge 5 and he
lost no possible opportunity of adding to his stores. From
Shiraz, he wrote to his friend Mr Edmonstone, then Per-
sian Secretary to Government, who was making rapid
strides towards the attainment of the eminent position
which he so long held in the Councils of India : ' I employ
every leisure hour in researches into the history of this ex-
traordinary country, with which we are but little acquainted.
Of the little information we have received respecting its
ancient history from the Greeks, you will form an idea
when I assure you that, with the exception of Alexander's
conquests, which are related by the authors of both coun-

* To relieve India from the annual alarm of Zemaun Shah's invasion,
which is always attended with serious expense to the Company, by
occasioning a diversion upon his Persian provinces ; to counteract
the possible attempts of those villanous but active democrats the
French ; to restore to some part of its former prosperity a trade
which has been in a great degree lost — ^are the leading objects of my
journey.'

i8oa] TREATY'NEGOTIATIONS. 211

tries (though in a very different manner), there is no fact
recorded by the Greeks of which Persian histories make the
least mention, nor is there one name that the Greeks have
given to either the Persian Generals or Towns that can be
understood by any Persian. Indeed, there are many so fo-
reign to the idiom of the language, that he cannot pronounce
them when repeated. I shall, I trust, collect materials
that will either enable myself, or some one better qualified,
to give much information on this subject. The climate of
this country is delightful. Had it the constitution of Great
Britain, its inhabitants need not sigh for Paradise. As it is,
1 would rather live on Douglan HiU.' From Ispahan, he
again wrote, on the 9th of October, to the same corre-
spondent, that the mission was prospering. ' All goes on
swimmingly,* he said. * Attention increases as I advance.
The entertainment given me yesterday by the Begler Bey
exceeds all I have yet seen. The illuminations and fire-
works were very grand ; and, to crown all, when we were
seated in an elegant apartment, one side of it, which was
chiefly formed of mirrors, opened, and a supper laid out
in the English style, with tables and chairs, presented itself
to our utter astonishment, for we little expected such
apparatus in the middle of Persia. The difiSculty of feast-
ing us in our own style made the compliment the greater.'
On the 1 6th of November Malcolm was presented to
the Shah at Teheran. Some days afterwards he laid before
his Majesty the magnificent presents with which he was
charged. But he was in no hurry to enter upon the po-
litical business of his mission. He exhibited his diplomacy
by leaaing on the Persian Ministers to make their pro-

212 5/^ JOHN MALCOLM, [1800— i8ox,

posals for the establishment of treaty-negotiations between
the two powers. The result was, that after a good deal of
skirmishing, two treaties, the one commercial, the other
political, were drawn up and discussed. There was little
need now to make a grand combination against Zemaim
Shah, for in truth that unhappy ruler, who had threatened
such great things, was, in a political sense, very nearly at his
last gasp. But very potent were the French j so, after dis-
posing of the Afghans, the treaty ruled that if any people
of the former nation should endeavour to effect a landing
on Persian territory, the Persians and English together
should make short work of them 5 and that the King of
Persia would never allow the French, or any European
power in alliance with them, to build a fort or to settle in
any part of the Persian dominions. Whether these treaties
were ever really in force is matter of historical doubt. But
at all events a good understanding was established between
the two countries. The Persians were well pleased with
the magnificence of the presents which were lavished upon
them 5 they derived from them a grand idea of our national
wealth 5 and it must be added that the personal belongings
of the Envoy himself made a profound impression on the
Persian Court. His fine stature, his commanding presence,
and the mixture of good humour and of resolute prowess
with which he conducted all his negotiations, compelled
them to form a high estimate of the English people. He
was in their eyes a * Roostum,' or hero of the first magni-
tude.

On his return to India, Captain John Malcolm was
greeted by letters from the Governor-General, directing

x8oi— i8oa.] VISIT TO CALCUTTA, 213

him to proceed at once to Calcutta.* His reception at
Government House was most cordial. Lord Wellesley
bestowed his unqualified commendation on what had
been done, and promised to give him, on the first oppor-
tunity, a high appointment in the political service. Mean-
while, he requested him to act as his private secretary,
during the absence of Henry Wellesley, who had gone on
a special mission to Oude. All this, it may well be con-
ceived, filled with delight and gratitude the hearts of the
family at Burnfoot. * The account of your employments,'
wrote his father to him, Ms like fairy tales to us. . . .
Your filial effusions brought tears of joy to the eyes of
your parents. A good head will gain you the esteem and
applause of the world, but a good heart alone gives happi-
ness to the owner of it. It is a continual feast.'

In the capacity of private secretary, John Malcolm ac-

* Or rather from Henry Wellesley, the brother and private secret-
ary of the Governor-General, who wrote : * While I was in England,
I frequently heard Mr Dundas and other great men speak of you in
a manner which gave me great pleasure, and ought not to be less
gratifying to you. . . . All wise people in India think that very satis-
fectory consequences are likely to result from your embassy. There
are not wanting some who are disposed to blame it, as tending to
give umbrage to the Court of St Petersburg ; but these are of that
description of person who never look at a measure but with a view of
condemning it.' . . . And then in a postscript came the important
words : * My brother' (Lord Wellesley), 'hearing I was writing to
you, has this moment desired me to summon you to the Presence.*
A later letter from the same writer conveyed to him the gratifying in-
telligence of the full approval of the Governor- General. * I cannot
help writing to tell you,* he said, * that my brother fiilly approves of
all your proceedings, and that he thinks you have conducted the whole
of your negotiations in a very masterly manner.*

ai4 Slid JOHN MALCOLM. [1801— i8oa.

comoamed Lord Wellesley on a tour to the Upper Pro-
trinces ; but he had not proceeded farther than Allahabad,
when certain complications of a personal character at
Madras caused the Governor- General to depute Malcolm,
on a mission of ipuch delicacy, to that Presidency. He
did his work not only well — but nobly. For the arrange-
ments, which were considered good for the public service,
involved a great sacrifice on his part. He had been pro-
mised the Residency of Mysore 5 but he yielded his claims
with cheerfulness, in order to induce that excellent civil
officer, Mr Webbe, to remain a little longer in India. This
done, he returned with all possible despatch to Calcutta,
«nd met the Governor-General on his way back to the
Presidency. But he did not remain long at the great
man*s elbow. Whenever any difficulty arose, it occurred
to Lord Wellesley at once to send Malcolm on a special
mission to set it right. So when, in July, 1802, the
Persian Ambassador, who had come to India about the
ratification of the treaties, was unhappily shot in an affi*ay
at Bombay, Malcolm was despatched to that Presidency
to endeavour to make the best of so untoward an occur-
rence.

Making all speed, by land, to Bombay, he arrived there
in October, and did everything that could be done to ap-
pease the expected resentment of the Persian Court. He
wrote letters of explanation and condolence to the Shah
and his Ministers \ and made such liberal grants of money
to all who had suffered by the mischance, that it was
said afterwards in Persia that the English might kill a
dozen Ambassadors, if they would always pay for them at

i9os-] MADE RESIDENT OF MYSORE. 215

the same rate. By the end of November the work was
done, and Malcolm returned to Calcutta. He found the
Goveraor-Greneral and his advisers immersed in the troubled
politics of the great Mahratta Courts. On New Year's-
day, 1803, he wrote to Colonel Kirkpatrick that ' the line
was taken.* He thought it no great matter to settle the
business of these troublesome chiefs, and he wrote to the
Commander-in-Chief, General Lake, that ' one short cam-
paign would for ever dissipate the terror with which Indian
politicians in England are accustomed to contemplate the
power of the Mahratta nation.* That this was a mistake,
he discovered in due course of time. Military operations
were commenced, and as Malcolm was sure to be where
any kind of activity was wanted, he was soon on his way
to Greneral Stuart's camp. Mr Webbe having been trans-
ferred to the Residency of Nagpore, Malcolm — now Major
Malcolm — had been appointed to Mysore, the Residency
at which he had before yielded to the civilian. He went
to Madras, therefore, formally to take up his appointment,
and to communicate, on the part of Lord Wellesley, with
the Governor of that Presidency, The work was soon
done. On the 27th of February, 1803, he wrote to the
Governor-General : ^ I propose leaving Madras in a few
days, and, as I travel fast, I shall soon join the army, and
convey to the (Madras) Commander-in-Chief, in the clearest
manner I can, a correct idea of the conduct which, in
your Excellency's judgment, the present emergency de-
mands.'

The head-quarters of the Madras Army were then at
Hurryhur. To this place Malcolm proceeded post-haste.

2i6 SIR JOHN MALCOLM. [iSo^,

and after two days spent in camp, pushed forward to join
the advance division, under Greneral Arthur Wellesley,
which was to aid, in the lower part of the Mahratta country,
the operations which Lord Lake was conducting in the
upper. On the 19th of March he joined Wellesley 's
camp, and there was a cordial meeting between the two
friends, and little disposition on either side to part. Mal-
colm saw clearly that they could act well together for the
good of the public service, and, as no evil was likely to
arise from his absence from Mysore, he determined to
remain in Wellesley's camp, and there to turn his diplomatic
experience to good account. ' A political agent,' he wrote
to the Commander-in-Chief, ^ is never so Hkely to succeed
as at the head of an army.' It was a great epoch in the
history of our Indian Empire, and there was a magnificent
harvest of results. For a narative of the events, which
grew out of the Mahratta policy of Lord Wellesley, the
inquiring reader must turn to the military annals of the time.
It was enough, that the first great work which fell to the
share of Wellesley and Malcolm was the restoration of the
Peishwah, Badjee Rao, to the throne of Poonah. This
accomplished, Malcolm fell sick. He struggled against
his increasing infirmity — but in vain. The hot weather
had come on, and he could not resist its baneful effects.
* I am out of all temper with myself,' he wrote on the 26th
of May to Mr Edmonstone, ^ at being unwell at a moment
Kke the present. However, everything will soon terminate
prosperously and gloriously.' A month later he was in
Wellesley's camp, ^ a little recovered j' but in July he was
again struggling against physical weakness, and at last even

1803.] SICKNESS, AND RETURN TO CAMP, ii/

his spirits began* to fail him. * I feel incapable/ he wrote,
* of holding out much longer in camp against an accumula^
tion of such disorders.* And at last, in the middle of
August, to his intense disappointment, he was compelled to
yield to the solicitations of Greneral Wellesley and other
friends, and to quit the camp for Bombay just as active
business in the field was commencing. What it cost him
it is hard to say, for during his absence the great battle of
Assye was fought and won 5 and it was long afterwards a
thorn in his flesh to think that he had been absent from the
side of his friend in such a glorious conjuncture.

But Malcolm was not long absent from his post. On
the 1 6th of December he returned to camp, and was
warmly welcomed. Though everything had gone well
with the army, the aspect of social affairs about the Gen-
eral's Staff, if not actually gloomy, was a little stately and
solemn. It was all work and no play 5 and there was little
laughter in the English tents. But when Malcolm re-
appeared among them, all this was changed'. It was like
a gleam of sunlight. He arrived in high spirits 5 he was
overflowing with lively humorous talk; he had many
rich stories to tellj he had a joke for every one, white or
black ; and no man left him without a smile upon his face.
He was ' Boy Malcolm * still. It was impossible to resist
the fascinations of his genial presence. I do not know
how the story can be told, better than in the words in
which it was narrated to me, half a century afterwards, by
Mountstuart Elphinstone : ' I joined,* wrote the veteran
statesman, 'the camp, as you suppose, immediately after
the surrender of Ahmednuggur. I think Malcolm had

ax8 5/^ John MALCOLM. \iZo^.

gone before I arrived. I left camp on the 28th of De-
cember, three or four days before the conclusion of the
treaty. The negotiations had been going on for some time,
but had not taken a definite shape till Wittul Rao, Scin-
diah*s Prime Minister, came into camp, on the 23rd of
December. Malcolm had arrived about a week before,
and was present at all the conferences with him. He
(Wittul Punt) was an elderly man, with rather a sour, su-
percilious countenance 5 but such as it was, he had a per-
fect command of it, receiving the most startling demand,
or the most unexpected concession, without moving a
muscle. Malcolm remarked on him that he never saw
such a face for playing " Brag." The name stuck to him 5
for long afterwards, when Malcolm met the Duke in Eu-
rope, and was asking him about the great men of France,
his answer about Talleyrand was, that he was a good deal
like "old Brag," but not so clever. I do not remember any
anecdotes about the proceedings, but I well remember the
effect of Malcolm's arrival, in enlivening head-quarters life.
There had been a great deal to do 5 everybody was busy in
the daytime, and more or less tired at night. The General,
when not on other duty, was shut up all day writing in his
private tent, and was too much absorbed in the many
things he had to attend to, to talk much at table, except
when there was anything interesting to excite him j so that,
although there was no form or ceremony in his party, there
was not much vivacity. When Malcolm came, he pitched
his tent (with two or three of his own people of the My-
sore Residency), close to the line of the General's Stafi;
which soon presented a very different scene. His health

1803.1 LIPB IN CAMP. ai^

seemed (for the time) completely restored, and he was in
the highest possible spirits 3 just come among old friends
from comparatively new places, with much to hear, and
more to tell, and doing his business by snatches, so that he
seemed to be always idle. He had frequent visitors at and
after breakfast, when he remained talking to the company,
showing off the Arab horses he had brought with him from
Bombay, or regaling them with some of the beer or other
rarity he had supplied himself with, and joking them about
the starving condition in which he found them. When
the strangers were gone, he went on with other subjects,
but with the same flow of spirits 5 sometimes talking po-
litics, sometimes chit-chat 5 sometimes reading political
papers he had drawn up, and sometimes sentimental or
ludicrous verses of his own composition 5 but ready at all
times to receive any one — ^European or native — ^gravely or
gaily, as the occasion required. To the natives, in particu-
lar, he used either to address elaborate compliments, or
good-humoured jokes, as he thought best suited to their hu-
mour, and seldom failed to send them away pleased. Even
bodily suffering did not take away his sociable feelings.
When he was at his worst — at Poona, I think — ^and was
exhausted and depressed, when a bachelor of thirty-four
might have wished himself at the bottom of the sea, and
any one else would have been solitary and morose, his ex-
clamation was, " Heigho ! I wish I had a wife and twelve

children ! " *

His health, however, was not perfectly restored) and
he was still haunted by apprehensions of another break-
down, necessitating his second departure from the camp.

2ao 5/^ -JOHN MALCOLM, [1804.

But there was much work to be done, and he struggled
against his infirmity. The beginning of the year 1804
found him negotiating a treaty with Scindiah, the conclu-
sion of which was delayed by a number of vexatious and
frivolous obstructions, which, however, never disturbed the
good humour of the negotiator. There were, indeed, oc-
casional incidents to amiise him, by their absurdity 5 and
he was one ever thoroughly to appreciate such compens-
ations. His first personal interview with Dowlut Rao
Scindiah, then a youth, was enlivened by a curious acci-
dent. ' We were well received,' wrote Malcolm to General
Wellesley, ' by the Maharajah, who is a good-looking young
man. He preserved great gravity when we first went in \
and probably we might have left him without seeing that
his gravity was affected, had not a ridiculous incident moved
his muscles. A severe shower took place whilst we were
in his tent. The water lodged on the flat part of the tent^
under which Mr Pepper was seated, and all at once burst
in a torrent upon his head. From the midst of the torrent
we heard a voice exclaim *' Jams ! *' — and soon after poor
Pepper emerged. The Maharajah laughed loud, and we
all joined chorus. A shower of hail followed the rain,
and hailstones were brought in and presented in all quar-
ters. My hands were soon fiUed with them by the polite-
ness of Dowlut Rao and his Ministers 3 and all began to
eat, or rather to diink them. For ten minutes the scene
more resembled a school at the moment when the boys
have got to play, than an Eastern Durbar.* We parted in

* This incident greatly amused General Wellesley, who wrote an
account of it to the Governor-General, in which he says : * It rained

i8o4.] TREATY-NEGOTIATIONS WITH SCINDIAH, aai

great good humour j and, as far as I can judge from phy-
siognomy, every one in camp is rejoiced at the termination
of hostilities.*

Soon after this Scindiah fell sick, and when he recovered
he was more inclined for pleasure than for business. A
meeting had been arranged between him and Malcolm,
which the former, having heard of a tiger some nine miles
oft^ desired to postpone, and asked the Englishman to go
out hunting with him. It was a sore denial to John
Malcolm, ever a mighty huntsman, to be compelled to say
that he was ' afraid to venture in the sun.* But he wrote
to the young Maharajah that he would pray for his success,
and, to insure it, he sent the Prince his best rifle. He
wrote this to Greneral Wellesley on the 2otli of February ;
and a week afterwards he was in high spirits at the thought
of having despatched a draft of the Treaty to Calcutta.
Scindiah was equally pleased, and determined to celebrate
the occasion by a frolic. 'I am to deliver the Treaty
to-day,* wrote Malcolm to Greneral Wellesley, ' and after
that ceremony is over to play hooley, * for which I have

violently, and an officer of the escort, Mr Pepper, an Irishman (a
nephew of old Bective*s, by-the-by), sat under the flat of the tent,
which received a great part of the rain which fell. At length it burst
through the tent upon the head of Mr Pepper, who was concealed by
the torrent that fell, and was discovered after some time by an " Oh,
Jasiis ! ^ and a hideous yell. Scindiah laughed violently, as did all
the others present ; and the gravity and dignity of the Durbar de-
generated into a Malcolm riot — after which they all parted on the best
terms.' — Wellington Despatches, vol. ii. p. 70 1.

* This consists mainly of the interchange of civilities, by throw-
ing red powder and squirting coloured water at everybody within
one s reach.

aaa S/ie JOHN MALCOLM. [1804.

prepared an old coat and an old hat. Scindiah is furn-
ished with an engine of great power, by which he can
play upon a fellow fifty yards' distance. He has, besides,
a magazine of syringes, so I expect to be well squirted.'
The sport was of a kind to delight ' Boy Malcolm j * and
we may be sure that he was not worsted in the playful
encounter. But it did him no good. He was not strong
enough for such rough work 5 and he wrote afterwards to
Merrick Shawe that the ' cursed hooley play * had given
him a sharp attack of fever.

But it was not all play-work for Malcolm at that time.
Even whilst he was scattering the red powder, uneasy
thoughts assailed him, for he was uncertain whether the
treaties which he had negotiated would be approved by the
Governor-General. For Lord Wellesley, though one not
slow to express gratification when he felt it, was a man not
easily pleased 5 and, in those days, a negotiator cut off
from the seat of Government by hundreds of slowly-
traversed miles was altogether de-centralized and self-
contained, and obliged to face responsibilities which in
later times have been evaded by the help of the electric
telegraph. It was Malcolm's doctrine, that ' a man who
flies from responsibility in public affairs is like a soldier
who quits the rank in action 5 he is certain of ignominy,
and does not escape danger.' He never did shrink from
responsibiUty j and, it may be added, that he was, for the
most part, a man of a sanguine, confident, self-reliant
nature, not commonly disposed to depreciate his own work
or to predict failure. But he had at this time a treacherous
liver ; he was melancholic and hypochondriacal, and, on-

i8c4] TREAFY'NEGOTIATIONS WITH SCINDIAH. 223

like himself ; and everything that he saw before him had
the tint of jaundice upon it. There were moral causes,
also, to increase his depression, for he had just received
from England the sad tidings of the death of his revered
father. Moreover, he knew that at this time Lord Welles-
ley, stung by the opposition of the Court of Directors, and
the probability of being deserted by the King's Ministers,
was in a frame of mind more than usually irritable and
captious, and hard to be pleased. Malcolm was in no wise,
therefore, surprised to learn that some part of the Sub-
sidiary Treaty was, on its first perusal, disapproved by Lord
Wellesley. ' I was fully aware,* he wrote to Mr Edmon-
stone, 'when I was appointed to negotiate this treaty, of
the heavy responsibility that 1 incurred j and that respons-
ibility was much increased by the uncertainty of commimi-
cation with General Wellesley during the latter part of
the negotiation — a circumstance which deprived me of the
benefit of his instructions on several points on which I was
anxious to receive them. I nevertheless ventured to con-
clude the treaty in the form it now has. The difference
between it and engagements of a similar nature (which 1
knew Lord Wellesly had approved) did not appear to me
of sufficient consequence to warrant my risking the success
of the negotiation. As far as I could understand, none of
those principles which it is essential in such alliances to
maintain were sacrificed, and no points were admitted that
could operate injuriously to the interests of the British
Government. I may, however, be mistaken, and there
may be a thousand objections to the alliance even as it now
stands, wliich my stupidity has made me overlook. If

224 SIR JOHN MALCOLM, [1804.

such is the case, it will, I conclude, be disapproved, and
the treaty will not be ratified. On such an event occurring,
the exclusive blame of this proceeding must attach to the
agent employed to negotiate it, of whom it will be
charitable to remark, that he was more distinguished for
boldness and zeal than for prudence and judgment.

But fuller explanations, aided by a favouring course of
circumstances, soon removed the uneasy apprehensions of
Lord Wellesley 5 and a fortnight after he had written the
above, Malcolm had the satisfaction of receiving letters
from both the private and the political secretary of the
Governor-General, informing him that his Lordship ap-
proved of all the stipulations of the treaties, and considered
that he had ' manifested great judgment, ability, and dis-
cretion in conducting the negotiations,' and 'rendered a
public service of the highest description by the conclusion
of the treaty of defensive and of subsidiary alliance.' But this
was emphatically Malcolm's gurdee-ka-wukht, or trouble-
time, for he had still a depressing malady to cope with, and
the burden of his sorrow was very heavy to bear. It seemed
to him at the time as though the death of his father had
taken away, if not his chief stimulus to exertion, at all
events its main reward. And he wrote to his uncle, Mr
John Pasley, to whom he owed so much, saying : ' The
greatest enjoyment I have, from the acquisition of fame
and .honour, is in the satisfaction which my success in
life affords to those to whom I owe my being, or,
what is more, the principles of virtue and honesty, which
I am conscious of possessing. The approbation of my
conduct conveys to my mind more gratification than

iSo4.] MALCOLM'S TROUBLES, 995

the thanks of millions or the applause of thousands \ and as
the number of those to whom I attach such value dimin-
ishes, a proportion of the reward I expected is taken
away, and part of that stimulus which prompted me to
action is removed. The sanguine temper of my dearest
parent made him anticipate a rank in life for me which I
shall probably never attain 5 but a knowledge that he
indulged such expectations made me make every exertion
of which I was capable. I am still sensible of what I owe
to myself, to my friends, and to my country; but I am
no longer that enthusiast in the pursuit of reputation that
I formerly was, and I begin to think that object may be
attained at too dear a price. My mind has, perhaps, been
more inclined to this way of thinking from the state of my
health, which continues indifferent. However, as I have
fully accomplished all the objects for which I was sent to
this Court, I expect soon to be released, and to be enabled
to repair to the sea-coast, where, I have no doubt, a short
residence will make me as strong as ever.* *

* What follows must not be altogether omitted. It is so redolent
of that good home-feeling, that tender regard for family ties, which
is observable in the lives of most men who have risen to eminence in
India : * I see from my last letters from Scotland that you were ex-
pected at Bumfoot in July. Your affectionate kindness will console
my dearest mother, and make her more resigned to her great loss,
and your presence will restore the whole family to happiness. Your
own feelings, my dearest uncle, will reward you for such goodness ;
may you long live to enjoy the gratitude and affection of a family who
owe all their success and happiness to your kindness and protection !
I know not what arrangement you may think best for my mother and
sbters. You are acquainted with my means. I have ;f lo^ooo in
my agent's hands in this country ; about £2PO0t is due to me, which
VOL. I. 15

226 5/i? JOHN MALCOLM, [1804.

These personal distresses were soon blended with new
official anxieties. The conclusion of the peace with Scin-
diah was attended with some political difficulties arising
out of those territorial redistributions which so frequently
result from our Indian wars. The most perplexing ques-
tion of all was that which related to the disposal of the fort
of Gwalior and the territory of Gohud. It was Malcolm's
opinion that, whatsoever might be the advantage to British
interests in otherwise disposing of them, the surrender of
both to Scindiah was clearly an act of justice. But it was
soon manifest that the cession would be distasteful in the
extreme to Lord Wellesley. Convinced that he was right,
Malcolm took high gromid. He said that nothing could
shake his convictions — ^ first, because there is some room
for doubt upon the subject, and if we determine a case of
a disputable nature in our favour because we have power,
we shall give a blow to our faith that will, in my opinion,
be more injurious to our interests than the loss of fifty pro-
vinces. What has taken us through this last war with such
unexampled success ? First, no doubt, the gallantry of our
armies 3 but secondly — and hardly secondly — our reputa-
tion for good faith. These people do not understand the
laws of nations, and it is impossible to make them com-
prehend a thousand refinements which are understood and

I shall hereafter receive. Of the amount in your hands I cannot
speak, as I know not how much of it has been applied ; but I have
directed £^00 to be remitted annually, ;f 300 of which I meant for
my parents, and ;f 100 for my sisters. You will now judge what is
siiftcient, and dispose of all, or any part of what I possess, as you
think proper ; above all, let my dearest mother enjoy affluence.*

x8o4.1 THE GWALIOR QUESTION, osrj

practised in Europe. They will never be reconciled to the
idea that a treaty should be negotiated upon one principle
and fulfilled on another,' * Truer and better words have
seldom been uttered by an Indian statesman 5 but I fear
that, as warnings, they have been given to the winds.
Sixty years have passed since they were written 5 and
England has not yet ceased, in her dealings with India, to
determine cases of a disputable nature in her oVn favour^
or to negotiate treaties on one principle and to fulfil them
on another.

I have said that Lord Wellesley, at this time, was in a
very irritable state of mind. The abrasions which had been
caused by constant collision with the ' ignominious tyrants
of Leadenhall-street * were very sore 5 and he was sensitive
in the extreme to any opposition which might have the
effect of convincing his persecutors that the agents of his
policy were more moderate than himself.f (general Wel-

* Very similar words — ^words which have obtained far more ex-
tensive currency — ^were written by Arthur Wellesley. *I would
sacrifice Gwalior,' he wrote to Malcolm, * or every frontier of India
ten times over, in order to preserve our credit for scrupulous good
faith and the advantages and honour we gained by the late war and
peace ; and we must not fritter them away in arguments drawn from
overstrained principles of the laws of nations, which are not under-
stood in this country. What brought me through many difficulties in
the war and the negotiations of peace ? The British good faith, and
nothing else ! ' The two passages are so similar that a comparison
of dates is interesting : Malcolm wrote from Boorhampore on March
30 ; Wellesley from Bombay on March 17, 1804.

t This is rendered very plain by a letter from Major Merrick
Shawe, Lord Wellesley's secretary, in which he says : * Whatever
your motives may have been, your conduct has certainly placed Lord

828 S/ie JOHN MALCOLM. [1804.

lesley had said : 'I declare that, when I view the treaty of
peace and its consequences, I am afraid it will be imagined
that the moderation of the British Government in India
has a strong resemblance to the ambition of other Govern-
ments.' And now Malcolm was turning against his mas-
ter— ^very painfully and sorrowfully, but with a resolute
manliness, which, whether he were right or wrong, is
entitled to be held in respect as an example to the public
service. I think that Malcolm was right.* If what he

Wellesley in a very embarrassing situation, and, when that is the case,
God knows that he is always inclined to vent his feelings freely
against those who have occasioned him difficulty and trouble.
Your having shown a great disposition to admit the justice of Scin-
diah's right to Gwalior and Gohud, is likely, Lord Wellesley thinks,
to give his enemies in Leadenhall-street room to found an accusation
against Lord Wellesley of injustice and rapacity, in marching upon
and retaining these possessions contrary to the opinion of the
Resident.'

* It must be admitted, however, that the case is not without its
difficulties, and that something may be said on the other side. Fifty
years afterwards, Mr Elphinstone, writing tome on the subject, said :
* I think Malcolm was quite right in the Gwalior controversy ; but
right or wrongs his strenuous opposition to the Governor-General in
defence of what he thought the cause of justice and good faith, would
have done honour to him in any circumstances ; in those of the case,
when the Governor-General was his patron, and the man for whom,
above all others, he felt the sincerest admiration and devotion, it was
an exertion of public virtue such as few men of the sternest character
could have attained to. He knew very well that Lord Wellesley was
at all times impatient of opposition and jealous of respect, and that
at the time he was intoxicated with success, so that he must have
foreseen all the consequences of his resistance, which were either an
open rupture or a complete estrangement, till near the end of Lord
WeUesley*8< government, when there was a meeting at Calcutta, and

i8o4.] RECONCILIATION WITH LORD WRLLESLEY. 221^

«

recommended was not more politic, it was at all events
more generous, and indeed more just, than the opposite
course. But the Govemor-Greneral was not a man to brook
opposition of any kind, and for a while he withdrew his
smiles from his favourite lieutenant. But all this soon
passed away. Lord Wellesley wrote him a long and very
friendly letter, assuring him of his unbroken confidence —
telling him that he was at full liberty to return to Mysore,
to join the Government party in the Upper Provinces, to
prepare for another mission to Persia, or to go home to re-
cruit his health, as he might think best. ' You may be
assured,* wrote Lord Wellesley, * that, although these dis-
cussions have given me great pain, they have not in any

a reconciliation, at which both parties seem to have been much affect-
ed ; but of all this you will probably find better accounts than I could
give among your papers.' — August 2S, 1855. But two days after he
had written this, Mr Elphinstone wrote again to me, saying : ' I
wrote to you on the day before yesterday that I thought Malcolm
quite right in his difference with Lord Wellesley about Gwalior ; but
I have since looked at some of the papers regarding it, and find the
case by no means so clear. I had no personal knowledge of the
affair, and the merits of it depend a good deal on the dates and terms
of engagements, and other circumstances not readily ascertained.
But what shakes my confidence in my first opinion, is contained in the
following papers, many of which I do not think I had before read.*
(List of documents in Wellesley and Wellington correspondence
given. ) * General Wellesley's letter to Scindiah of May 20, 1804, in
particular, expresses opinions so different from those given, in his
earlier letters to Malcolm, that it is impossible not to conclude that»
on mature consideration, he had given up his first conclusions. But
all this does not affect Malcolm's claim to high respect for his inde-
pendent and conscientious opposition to proceedings which he thought
\xn}\isV— August s^t 1855.

^o . S/J? JOHN MALCOLM. [1804

degree impaired my friendship and regard for you/ or my
general confidence and esteem. You cannot suppose that
such transactions did not irritate me considerably at the un-
seasonable moment of their pressure. But you have already
received from me suggestions of the same nature with those
expressed in this letter, and you are aware of my aversion
to every description of attack upon my judgment, excepting
fair, distinct, direct argument. Reflecting on these observ-
ations, I entertain a confident expectation that you will
always pursue that course of proceeding, in the discharge of
the duties of friendship towards me, which you now know
to be most congenial to my character and temper j and I
am satisfied that you will continue to possess the high place
in my esteem and attachment to which you are so justly
entitled by every consideration of gratitude and respect. I
am extremely grieved to learn that your health has been so
deeply affected. I trust, however, that the sea air and re-
pose will entirely restore you. I leave you at liberty either
to return to Mysore, or to join me in the Upper Provinces,
or to prepare for another mission to Persia, or to prepare
for Europe, as you may judge most advisable. I have ap-
prized the Secret Committee of the probability of your
return to Europe, and of my intention to employ you in
communicating to them the details of the recent events in
the Mahratta Empire. My own intention (although most
secret) is to return to Europe in January or February next,
provided the state of affairs in India should permit, which
event now appears probable. In the mean while, I expect
to depart for the Upper Provinces in about ten days, all my
preparations being completed. You will act upon this in-

i8o4.] VISIT TO THE COAST, 231

formation as you may judge best. I shall be happy to see
you at Agra or Delhi, or to have your company to Europe.
You may rest assured of my constant good wishes for your
health and welfare.* And then he added, in a postscript,
as though to riiake still clearer that there was to be no
breach in their private friendship, these familiar words:
5 General Wellesley has not told me whether he ever re-
ceived the horse which I sent to him, or how that horse
turned out 5 somebody told me that he had suffered the
same fate as " Old Port,*' who was shot under General Ldte
at Laswarree.*

Malcolm's first duty was now to regain his health j so,
when he left Scindiah's camp, he went down to the coast,
determined to cease for a while from business 5 and before
the autumn was far advanced he wrote from Vizagapatam
that he was ' growing quite stout,' and that he ' enjoyed
idling in perfection.' But news of stirring events came to
him in his retreat. Scarcely had Scindiah's. account been
settled, when Holkar began to cause us fresh trouble 5 and
Malcolm then earnestly hoped to accompany General
Wellesley again into the field. He had lost one grand op-
portunity of military distinction, and he panted to gain an-
other. ' My health is now well restored,' he wrote fi-om
Ganjam in November, ' and two months of the cold weather
will make me as strong as ever. Ingledew says, that by
returning to camp I shall bring back the whole train of my
complaints; but I am not of his opinion, and», if I were, it
should not prevent my accompanying the Greneral to the
field, if he will permit me. I feel (almost as a stain) my
unfortunate absence from Assye and Argaum 3 and I shall

23a S/I^ JOHN MALCOLM, \iSo^

rejoice in the most distant prospect of attending the Grcn-
eral on similar occasions.' But it was not so to be 5 Arthur
Wellesley's Indian career was at an end. The two friends
met at Madras, and proceeded together to Mysore. But the
General, who was about shortly to sail for England, soon
returned to the Presidency, and Malcolm then settled himself
down at Mysore, intending to turn his leisure to good ac-
count by writing the history of Persia, of which he had
formed the design and collected some materials in that
country.

But his studies were soon broken in upon by a summons
to Calcutta. Lord Wellesley wished to see him at the
chief Presidency 5 so he closed his books, put aside his
papers, and soon (April, i8oj) found himself again an in-
mate of Government House. The Mahratta war had entered
a new phase, and Malcolm's counsel was again in requisition.
* To make a long story short,' he wrote to General Welles-
ley, ' soon after you sailed I was called to Calcutta. I lost
no time in obeying, and arrived on the 17th of April. I
found it was determined that Close * should remain in the
Deccan, where he was invested with the political and mili-
tary control, and that I should proceed to Dowlut Rao
Scindiah. During my short stay at Calcutta I had enough
of discussion. All the old ground was gone over. After
much heat, if not violence, we were all of the same opinion j
and I left Lord Wellesley on the 30th ultimo — I believe as
high in his good opinion as I have ever been since our first
acquaintance. Lord Lake had at that date disengaged
himself fi^om Bhurtpore. Scindiah was advanced to the
* Colonel, afterwards Sir Barry, Close.

laosO PVRTMMk OPERATIONS. 233

Chumbul, near Dholpore, and that arch-scoundrel, Suijee
Rao Ghautka, had moved forward on a pretended mission
to Lord Lake, but with a real view of reconciling Holkar
to Scindiah. He succeeded, and carried that chief back
with him to Dowlut Rao's camp. It was resolved that
Lord Lake should insist on Scindiah's retreating — that he
should further require the dismissal of Ghautka, as an indis-
pensable condition of our maintaining those more friendly
relations of friendship that had been established \sj the
treaty of defensive alliance. If this was agreed to, Scindiah
was to be immediately vigorously supported. If not, and
he committed no act of aggression, the more intimate rela-
tions of friendship were to be suspended, and the Resident
withdrawn, until his counsels were more to be depended
upon 5 but the treaty of peace was to be maintained. In
the event of Scindiah committing any hostile act, or main-
taining himself on the frontier after he had been desired to
withdraw, he was of course to be attacked.*

The policy being thus determined, his personal services
were again required. In the conjuncture which had then
arisen, it seemed to Lord Wellesley more desirable than
ever to ' send Malcolm.' So, at the end of a fortnight,
Malcolm was sent to join the camp of General Lake in
Upper India. Putting himself in a palanquin, he journeyed
northward through the sultry summer weather, sorrowing
most of all that he should look upon the face of Lord
Wellesley no more in that part of the world (for the Go-
vemor-Greneral had determined upon a speedy departure
from India), and at times distracted by doubt as to whether
he would not accompany his old master to England. That

a34 S/I^ JOHN MALCOLM. [1805.

Lord Wellesley desired this, is> I think, certain. For some
time he oscillated between two opinions. Now, it appear-
ed to him that it would be better for Malcolm to remain
in India as the active exponent of his poUcy, so far as it
was possible to execute it in the face of the opposition of
the Court of Directors j and again, that it would be greater
gain to him to have Malcolm at his elbow in England to
explain and to defend that policy to the overthrow of his
enemies at home. But for Malcolm at that time to have
gone to England would have been to have injuriously in-
terrupted, if not to have abandoned, his career. It was
natural that he should hesitate 5 wise that he should decide
in favour of continuing his Indian work. So he wrote to
Lord Wellesley, as he had before written to his Private
Secretary, a manly, straightforward, candid letter, stating
that neither on public nor on private grounds would it be
desirable that, at such a time, he should leave his post and
return to England 5 and I am convinced that the dispas-
sionate opinion of the Governor-G^eneral must have endorsed
the decision.*

* In the letter to Lord Wellesley (dated August 6, 1805), Mal-
colm says : * From the long conversation I had with your Lordship
previous to my leaving Calcutta, you must have perceived that I am
not insensible to the voice of ambition. To your Lordship, whose
encouraging condescension has ever accustomed me to speak in the
language of confidential friendship, I did not hesitate to own that the
proudest object of my life was to obtain a mark of honour from my
Sovereign, as the declared reward of public services (on other terms
I could not value it), and my exertions during my public emplo)rment
will continue to be prompted by the same hopes of honourable dis-
tinction. If I succeed, I shall be gratified ; but if I fail, I shall not
be disappointed. Nor do I think the want of success will diminish

k

i8oS.] OPERATIONS AGAINST HOLKAR, 235

. . - . — — . , - - ■ ■ -■,. . ^ ..- ■ -

The head-quarters of the British Army were then upon
the banks of the Chumbul 5 but the scorching hot winds
of the month of May compelled a season of inactivity^ and
they could do little but talk about the future. Grave and
anxious talk it was, for news had come that Lord Corn-
wallis, with stringent instructions to adopt a pacific course
of policy, had been a third time appointed Governor-
General of India, and was expected shortly to arrive. The
work was only half done, and to bring it to an abrupt,
might be to bring it to a disastrous, close. Lord Com-
wallis came, and the war was ordered to be woimd up
with the utmost possible despatch. The conduct of the
Mahratta chiefs, however, rendered certain further opera-
tions on our part absolutely necessary. The insolence of
Holkar demanded chastisement 5 but his courage was not
equal to his pretensions, and as the army advanced he
deemed it expedient to seek safety in flight. He crossed
the Sutlej, and our troops pursued him, Malcolm accom-
panying the force, and ever in the van. It was doubted
whether the Hindoo Sepoys would cross the river. There
were signs, indeed, of wavering, and it is said that the

one iota my future comfort, happiness, or respectability. Your Lord-
ship is fully aware of my desire to return to Persia ; and the inform-
ation which you must lately have received of affairs in that quarter,
will have enabled you to judge of the necessity of such a mission. I
should, if sent with a letter or credentials from the Throne, undertake
it with the sanguine hope of rendering important services to my
country.' In these days, when honours are bestowed compara-
tively with a lavish hand, it may seem strange that no kind of dis-
tinction had up to this time been conferred on Malcolm. And many
more years were destined to elapse before his services were recognized
by the Crown.

ajS S/H JOHN MALCOLM, [1805.

w« « I xwm^fm^tmtbm^

leading companies sat down on the banks, when Malcolm
rode up to them, spoke in his brave hearty manner a few
cheering words, reminding them that the holy shrine of Um-
ritsur was in advance, and asking them if they would shrink
from such a pilgrimage. And the story runs that such was
the magic effect of these words, that the recusant Sepoys
started up to a man, crossed the river, and soon, followed
by their comrades, were in full march into the Punjab.

But, although ever ambitious . of military distinction,
and eager to be in the thick of it when there was service
to be done in the field, Malcolm hoped, at this time, that
Holkar would be brought to battle and that the oppor-
tunity lost to him at Assye would be recovered, his duties
lay in the direction rather of diplomacy than of war, and
he vras soon busy at the old work of treaty-making. Holkar
saw plainly that his game was up, and sent his envoys to
the British camp to negotiate the terms of peace.* A new

♦ The Sikh chiefs also sent their envoys to the British camp, and
it is with reference to one of their visits that the following characteristic
story has been told : Malcolm was giving an audience to two or three
of these agents, when his friends, Gerald I^ake and Norman Shairp,
suddenly entered his tent, and, regardless both of ceremony and of busi-
ness, told him that there were two large tigers in the neighbourhood.
The interruption came at a moment when Malcolm was in some per-
plexity with respect to the answers to be given to the envoys, so the
interruption was not imwelcome. Starting up and seizing his ever-
ready gun, he cried out to the astpnished Sikhs, * Baug I baug T ( * A
tiger I a tiger ! '), and, ordering his elephant to be brought round,
tushed out of the tent. Joining his friends and two or three others,
he went in pursuit of the game, shot the tigers, returned with the
spoil, and then, replacing his gun in the comer of his tent and re-
suming his seat, took up the thread of the conversation as if nothing

t8o5.1 conclusion OF THE WAR. S37

treaty was also concluded with Scindiah, by which the
much-agitated question of Gwalior was set at rest. Then
there was other and more onerous work to be done in the
disbandment of the irregular levies, which had been called
into hfe by the necessities of the war, and the expenses of
which were now eating into the very vitals of the State.*
But that which vexed him most was the abandonment of
some of our less powerful allies 5 and although he worked
— as he ever did — with all his might, he was sometimes
beset with serious doubts and perplexities as to whether he
ought not to retire from the scene, and to leave it to others
to work out a policy in consonance with their own views.
He asked himself whether, with opinions at variance with
those of his employers, he could do his duty to the State,
and be any longer a profitable servant to them. Presently
these obstinate self-questionings found expression in a letter
to Mr Edmonstone, then Political Secretary, who, in reply,
cited his own case in support of the argument that servants
of the State, acting in a ministerial capacity, are bound to
do their best to carry into effect the measures of the re-
had happened. The envoys, in the mean while, had been declaring
that the English gentleman was mad. * But there was method,' it
has been said, ' in such madness. He had done more than shoot the
tigers. He had gained time. He had returned with his mind fully
made up on an important point, which required consideration. And
the envoys received a different and a wiser answer than would have
been given if the tiger-hunt had not formed an episode in the day's
council.' The Honourable Arthur Cole and the late Sir W. R.
Gilbert were of the hunting-party.

• These proceedings necessarily occupied a considerable period
of time — ^partly before and partly after the death of Lord Com*
waUis.

238 S/Ii JOHN MALCOLM, [1803.

sponsible head of the Government, without reference to
their own individual sentiments. To this Malcolm rejoined,
and with much sound discrimination, that the case of a
Secretary at the elbow of a Governor- Greneral and that of
a Political Agent at a distance from the seat of government,
were not analogous. ^ Your station and mine,' he wrote,
* are, my dear friend, widely different. As an officer of
Government, acting immediately under the Governor-
Greneral, you have, in fact, only to obey orders, and are
never left to the exercise of your own discretion and judg-
ment, as you have a ready reference in all cases that can
occur to the superior authority, with whom, of course,
every responsibility rests. Under such circumstances, a
secretary that chooses to be of a different opinion — that is
to say, to maintain different opinions — from a Governor-
General, has, in my opinion, no option but to resign ^ and his
resignation would on such occasion appear extraordinary to
every person acquainted with the nature of his office, which
is obviously one of an executive, not of a deliberative nature.
Now look at my situation. Placed at a great distance
from the Governor-General, and acting upon instructions
of a general nature — obliged constantly to determine points
upon my own judgment, as there is no time for reference
— liable to be called upon by extraordinary exigencies to
act in a most decided manner to save the public interests
from injury, it is indispensable that the sentiments of my
mind should be in some unison with the dictates of ray
duty, and if they unfortunately are contrary to it, I am not
fit to be employed, for I have seen enough of these scenes
to be satisfied that a mere principle of obedience will never

I

i8oS.] DEA TH OF LORD CORNWALLIS, 239

cany a man through a charge where such large discretionary
powers must be given, with eitlier honour to himself or
advantage to the public*

This was written on the 6th of October. On the pre-
ceding day. Lord Cornwallis had sunk under the accumu-
lation of disorders which for weeks past had rendered his
demise only a question of time. Malcolm grieved for the
fine old soldier-statesman, thus dying with the harness on
his back. 'You have been witness,' he wrote to Mr
Edmonstone, * to a most extraordinary and impressive
scene, the close of the life of a great and good man, who
has continued to the last to devote himself to his country.
Few have lived with such honour 5 no one ever died with
more glory. I feel satisfied in thinking that Lord Corn-
wallis was fiiUy satisfied of my zeal, and that our proceed-
ings here have met with his approbation.* The event proi.
duced no change of policy. Sir George Barlow, ' aided by Mr
Edmonstone, had indeed been for some time at the helm j
and stem necessity compelled our perseverance in a line of
political conduct which, as I have before observed, had
been sanctioned by Lord Wellesley before his departure
from the country.* * There was much in it all that was
distasteful in the extreme to Malcolm j but he worked as
best he could, and remained at his post in Upper India as

•

♦ Ante, Memoir of Lord Cornwallis. — Sir Arthur Wellesley
wrote to Malcolm that no one could be a judge of the necessity of
peace in India who had not sat in the House of Commons. * I really
believe,* he added, * that, in the opinion of the majority of people in
this country, it would have been better to cede the whole of Oude to
Holkar than to continue the war.*

940 SIJi JOHN MALCOLM. [1806.

long as there was anything to be done, cheered to the last
by the friendship and sympathy of that fine old soldier.
Lord Lake.

In the hot weather of 1806, Colonel Malcolm was
again in Calcutta, and in constant communication with
Sir George Barlow and Mr Edmonstone. The war was
at an end 3 but it had left a crop of trouble behind it, and
there was still much work to be done. To Malcolm this
period of his life was not a grateful one 5 for his opinions were
not those of the Government, and he frequently found
himself the antagonist of Barlow, and sometimes of his
friend Edmonstone. In truth, Malcolm and Barlow,
though each admirable after his kind, seemed to be sent
into the world expressly io war with each other. They
were essentially unlike in almost every feature of their
several characters, save in honesty and courage, which
both possessed in an equal degree, but evinced after different
fashions. Malcolm often longed for one hour of WeUesley
— in his prime) and he tried hard to tempt 'brother
Arthur ' back to India. When that event, known in his-
tory as the massacre of Vellore, startled the English in
India from one end of the country to the other, he wrote
to Sir Arthur Wellesley, saying, ' My opinion is fixed
beyond aU power of being altered, that upon your appoint-
ment to be Governor and Commander-in-Chief of Madras
the actual preservation of that part of our British Empire
may, in a great degree, depend.' To Lord Wellesley he
wrote in the same strain, adding, ' Your Lordship knows
I am no alarmist. This is the first time I have ever
trembled for India. It is one of those dangers of which

1806—1807.] SEASONS OF DESPONDENCY. 241

it is impossible to calculate either fhe extent, the progress,
or the consequences.' But Sir Arthur Wellesley had
taken the measure of Indian service and of himself far too
well to wish to return to Madras. He would have gone,
if the sacrifice had been required from him, but happily he
was not called upon to make it. ' I don't think it pro-
bable,' he wrote to Malcolm, ' that I shall be called upon
to go to India 5 the fact is, that men in power in England
think very little of that country 5 and those who do think
of it, feel very little inclination that I should go there.
Besides that, I have got pretty high on the tree since I
came here, and those in power think that I cannot well
be spared from objects nearer home. At the same time
the Indians in London are crying out for my return.'

Those were days when Indian service even of the best kind
was almost habitually ignored. Malcolm, who had done
so much for his country, had risen to the rank of Lieuten-
ant-Colonel by seniority 5 but, for all that he had done, he
had received no mark of distinction from the Crown.
There were times when Malcolm was keenly sensitive of
this neglect — not only as it affected himself, but as it
affected the whole service to which he belonged. In the
lives of most men — and of all men, it may be said, who
have long dwelt under the depressing influences of an
Indian climate — there have been seasons of painful de-
spondency. When, therefore, in the cold season of 1806-
1807, Malcolm returned to Madras, intending to rejoin his
appointment in Mysore (for he was still Resident at that
Court), he told himself that his service was nearly at an

end, and that another year of work would he enough for
VOL. L 16

042 S/I^ JOHN MALCOLM. [1807.

him. He was at this time in a poor state of healthy and
compelled to keep his room 5 but crowds of visitors, in-
cluding ' all the great/ turned the sick-room into a levee.
These honours do not turn my head/ he wrote to his old
friend Gerald Lake, ' for the sentiment of my mind is more
of pity than of admiration of some of our first characters
here/ He was now eager to proceed to his Residency and
to rest. The state of his mind at this period, influenced,
doubtless, by physical weakness, may be gathered from his
correspondence. * I mean to proceed in eight days more,'
he wrote to Lord Wellesley on the 4th of March, 'to
Mysore,* where I anxiously hope I may be permitted to
stay during the short period I mean to remain in India.
Those motives that would have carried me dawk over the
world exist no longer.* 'I anticipate with pleasure,' he
said in another letter, ' the prospect of one year's quiet 5
and that is, I trust, the extent of the period that I shall
remain. God knows that I should be glad to abridge even
that, if possible. I do not think it at all likely that
any event can arise that would lead the Governor-General
to wish me to move again. But if there should, I must
trust to your endeavours to prevent it, for every consider-
ation concurs to make me now as desirous to avoid active
employment on the public service as ever I was to court it.
I need not state to you the proofs I have given of not
being deficient in public zeal. I have been rewarded, I
admit, by distmction in the service 5 but if a man is wished
to go on, further stimulus must be found, and I confess, as

* His departure was subsequently delayed. He started on the
2i$t ojf March.

1807.] MARRIAGE, 243

far as I can judge my own case, I have every inducement

to stop, and not a solitary one to proceed My mind

is as full of ambition as ever 5 but I have determined, on the
most serious reflection, to retire, and avoid all public em-
ployment, unless a period arrives in which I can be certain
that my services will be justly appreciated and rewarded.
And if it is conceived that any ability, knowledge, or ex-
perience I possess can be usefully directed to the promotion
of the public interests, I must be stimulated to exertion by
a fair prospect of just and honourable encouragement.*

But never was the great truth that Man proposes and
God disposes, more emphatically inscribed on any man s
life than on the life of John Malcolm. He spoke of his
career as though it were nearly at its close ^ but in truth it
was only in its beginning. He had not very long returned
to Mysore, when a great change came over his life. To
settle down at the Residency for a little quiet was in effect
to settle in another way. He had been so constantly on
the move for many years that he had seen little of female
society) but his warm, affectionate nature was sensible of
the want of a helpmate ; there were times when he felt
very isolated and companionless — a solitary man in a
strange land — and his heart often turned restlessly to Eng-
land, as though there alone the blessing of domestic life was
to be found. But in this he was mistaken. He found that
what he wanted was already within his reach. He gave
his affections to one altogether worthy of the gift -, and on
the 4th of July, 1807, he married Charlotte, daughter of
Colonel Alexander Campbell (afterwards Commander-in^
Chief of the Madras Army), a lady in whom, it has been

844 "^/^ JOHN MALCOLM, [1807.

said, ' the charms of youth and beauty were united with a
good natural understanding and a cultivated mind.' This
union was productive of much happiness to both. But
nothing could ever relax John Malcolm's zealous activity
in the public service. Single or married, he was ever
hungering for employment 5 and in the course of the fol-
lowing year he was equipping himself for a second embassy
to Persia.

For some time the King's Ministers had contemplated
the expediency of sending another mission to Persia — a
mission which was to be despatched directly from the
Court of St James's 5 and Sir Arthur Wellesley had warmly
recommended that Malcolm should be placed at the head
of the embassy. ' Government have some thoughts of
sending an embassy to Persia,' wrote the General in Febru-
ary, 1807, ' Baghdad Jones as the Ambassador. I put a
spoke in his wheel the other day, I think, in conversation
with Tierney, and urged him to get Lord Howick to ap-
point you. God knows whether I have succeeded in the
last object, although I made it clear that Jones was an im«
proper man, and that you were the only one fit for the
station.' This advice, however, was thrown away, as was
nearly all the advice on Indian affairs which at that time
emanated from the Wellesleysj* and Mr Harford Jones,
having been created a baronet for the occasion, was de-

* Sir Arthur Wellesley, a few months before, bad written to
Malcolm, sa3dng : * As for India, I know but little respecting it. If
I had been employed in Nortli America, I might be informed and
consulted about the measures to be adopted in India, but as it is, that
is out of the question. '

t ,

i8<^.] EXPEDITION TO THE PERSIAN GULF, 245

spatched to the Court of the Persian Shah. He went from
London with credentials from the King, and he was to
have proceeded through Russia to the Persian frontier, but
a sudden and startling change in the politics of Europe
disconcerted his arrangements at the very outset of his, am-
bassadorial career. Russia had ceased to be our friend and
ally. She had been fighting for dear life against the grow-
ing power of Napoleon, and we had hoped that she would
aid us in our efforts to checkmate France in the East, But
the peace of Tilsit, as if by magic, changed all this. After
the bloody fights of Eylau and Friedland the two armies
had fraternized, and the two Emperors had embraced each*
other on a raft floating on the surface of the river Niemen.
Among the vast projects of conquest which they then
formed was a conjoint campaign ' contra les possessions de
la compagnie des Indes.* The territories of the East India
Company were to be divided between these two great
continental potentates. It was believed that the attack
would be made by land rather than by sea, and that Persia
would become a basis of operations against the North-
Western Provinces of India. The danger was not an ima-
ginary one. It was the harvest-time of great events, and
the invasion of India by a mighty European force did not
seem to rise above the ordinary level of the current history
of the day.

So Sir Harford Jones was compelled to betake himself
to a new route 5 and it seemed to the eye of authority in
India that the embassy from St James's, if not folded up
altogether, would be so long delayed as to be very nearly
useless. Lrord Minto was at that time Governor-General

346 S/Ji JOHN MALCOLM. [1807—1808.

of India. He had not long taken his seat at Calcutta before
he began to consider the expediency of sending a mission
from India to the Persian Court ^ and to send such a mis-
sion was synonymous with sending Malcolm at the head
of it. Barry Close sent him a hint to prepare for such an
invitation 5 but Malcolm was inclined to think at that time
that the Governor-General was of too cool and cautious a
temper to send a mission to Persia without orders fi*om
home. In this, however, he was mistaken. Lord Minto
soon made up his mind to send Malcolm to the Persian
Gulf, with a commission of a vague character, half military
and half political — to threaten, if not to negotiate, and to
wait for the lessons written down in the great chapter of
accidents. At the end of January, he wrote to Malcolm,
saying : * I did not conceal my own sentiments in England
concerning the name to be selected for that most important
mission — ^a mission which required qualifications hardly to
be found united in more than one name that I have ever
heard. That name has been the subject of very clear and
strong representations from me to the authorities at home
since I assumed this government. In the mean while, my
own hands were effectually restrained by the two consider-
ations already mentioned — ^the connection between English
and Russian politics, and the actual appointment of another
person. I am now released by the separation which there
is reason to apprehend between Great Britain and Russia,
and by the growing necessity of the case in Asia. We
have not heard of Sir Harford Jones's arrival in Persia 3 and,
indeed, all that I yet know of his mission is, that he was
ordered to repair in the first instance to St Petersburg, in

i.8o8.] EXPEDITION TO THE PERSIAN GULF, ^7

order to carry with him from thence, if it could be ob-
tained (of which there was little prospect), the consent of
that Court to the mediation of Great Britain between Russia
and Prussia. If there is a rupture between Russia and
England, as there is much reason to suppose, I do not know
by what route Sir Harford Jones can penetrate to Persia.
At all events, your commission is framed in such a manner
as not to clash with a diplomatic mission to the King of
Persia, if you should find Sir Harford Jones at that Court.
You will perceive that I have not admitted into this mea-
sure any doubt of your consent to it. Knowing as I do
your pubhc zeal and principles, and without reckoning on
the knowledge you have lately afforded me of the manner
in which you are affected towards this particular commis-
sion, I may safely and fairly say, that neither you nor I
have any choice on this ocpasion. I must propose this
service to you, because the public interests (I might per-
haps use a stronger word) indispensably require it. You
must accept for the same reason. I am convinced that
the call of public duty is the most powerful that can be
made on your exertions.'

To a man of Malcolm's temperament, a letter from
supreme authority, in such a strain as this, was not likely to
be thrown away. He at once responded to the summons j
and with characteristic energy and activity began to make
the necessary preparations for his expedition to the Persian
Gulf. As tlie French had at that time a magnificent mis-
sion at Teheran, it waa expedient that England also should
appear in an imposing character 5 so Malcolm was to be
attended by a considerable staff of military and political

248 Sm JOHN MALCOLM, [i3o8.

officers, and was to be the bearer of sumptuous presents to
the Court of the Shah. By the middle of April every-
thing was ready. Malcolm sailed from Bombay, and just
as the island was receding from his view, a King's ship,
with Sir Harford Jones on board, was making for the port
which the miHtary ambassador had so recently quitted.

On the loth of May, Malcolm reached Bushire in high
spirits 5 and for a time it seemed to him, always cheerful
and sanguine as he was, that everything was going well,
and that another great success was before him. ' I have
not only received the most uncommon attention from
every one here,* he wrote to Sir Greorge Barlow, who, on
the arrival of Lord Minto, had succeeded to the Govern-
ment of Madras, ' but learnt from the best authority that
the accounts of my mission have been received with the
greatest satisfaction at Court. ^ The great progress which
the French have made, and are daily making here, satisfied
me of the necessity of bringing matters to an early issue.
I have a chance of complete victory. I shall, at all events,
ascertain exactly how we stand, and know what we ought
to do 5 and if I do not awaken the Persian Court from
their delusion, I shall at least excite the jealousy of their,
new friends. I send Captain Pasley off to-morrow for
Court — ostensibly with a letter for the King, but he has
secret instructions, and will be able to make important ob-
servations I have endeavoured to combine modera-
tion with spirit, and to inform the Persian Court, in lan-
guage which cannot irritate, of all the dangers of their
French connection. Captain Pasley will reach Court on
the 28th of June, and on the i jth of July I may be able

i8o8.] FAILURE OF THE MISSION, ^

to give you some satisfactory account of his success.'
But Captain Pasley never reached Court 5 and the anti-
cipated success was a mortifying failure. The French were
established too securely in Persia for their supremacy to be
shaken by the announcement of another mission from the
Government of India. They were drilling the Persian
troops, and casting cannon^ and instructing the army in all
the scientific accomplishments of European warfare. The
appearance of the English mission perplexed the Persian
Court, but thus fortified by their French allies, and by
further support from Russia, the statesmen of Teheran were
not alarmed. They determined, if possible, to keep the
English out of Teheran, and to this end the provincial go-
vernors were directed to procrastinate, and by all possible
means to amuse and cajole our envoys. So Captain Pasley,
having penetrated as far as Shiraz, was detained at that
place, and told that he or his chief might open negotiations
with the Prince-Grovernor of the province.

When tidings of this reached Malcolm he chafed sorely,
and was by no means inclined to brook the insult. His
vexation was the more intolerable, as he cordially hated
the French, and felt that our enemies would exult in our
abasement. He had a genial temper, and he generaUy
took a cheerful view of the prospect before him, but he
was not one of the patient and long-suffering class of en-
voys, and he thought that the great nation which he re-
presented ought not, in the presence of insolent enemies, to
wait upon circumstances, and to beg for what it had a
right to demand. So, right or wrong, he determined to
mark his sense of the indignity to which he had been sub*

150 • SfH JOHN MALCOLM. [1808.

jected by withdrawing his ambassadorial presence from so
inhospitable a country.* ' From the letters I received this

* Whilst Malcolm was in the Persian Gulf he received much
gratifying attention from the Imaum of Muscat, who sent compli-
mentary messages and presents to him on board. An old Muscat
acquaintance of Malcolm was the bearer of these ; and the account
of their meeting, as recorded in Malcolm's journal, contains a passage
so characteristically descriptive of the English officer, that I cannot
forbear from quoting it : * " You have been all over the world," says
he to me, "since I last saw you." **I have travelled a little," I
answered. ** Travelled a litde 1 " he exclaimed ; **you have done
nothing else ; we heard you were with the great Lord Wellesley at
Calcutta. When there in a ship of the Imaum's, I went to see you :
Malcolm Sahib was gone to Madras. Two years afterwards I went
again to Bengal, and thought I would find my friend ; no, Malcolm
Sahib was gone to Scindiah, and we heard afterwards you went with
Lord Lake to Lahore. However, four months ago, we heard you
had come to Seringapatam and married a fine young girl, the daughter
of some Colonel. And now," says he, "after travelling all the
world over, and then marrying, you are come again to your old friends
the Arabs and Persians." I told my friend Mahomed Gholam I was
quite flattered with the interest he appeared to have taken in my wel-
&re, and rejoiced to see him in such health and spirits, and enjoying
the favour of his Prince. I then reminded him of some former
scenes, particularly one in which he had been much alarmed at the con-
duct of one of the gentlemen with me. He laughed, and said he was
glad I recollected old times and old firiends, and that I would find, as
I proceeded, that all those I had before seen perfectly remembered
me. He then begged me to take some letters for him to Bushire,
and b^[an writing a postscript to one of them. I saw him smiling,
and asked him to tell me (like an honest Arab) what he was writing,
as I was sure it was about me, " I will tell you without hesitation,"
said he, " for why need I be ashamed of the truth ? I knew my
friends would expect some account of you, and I could not give it till
I saw you. I have informed them that this is exactly the same Mal-
colm we had before, the only difference is, that he was then a Captain,
and is now a General" '

i8o8.] FAILURE OF THE MISSION, 251

day from Captain Pasley at Shiraz/ he wrote on the nth
of June, ' I was concerned to observe the Ministers there
not only continued to throw obstacles in the way of his
progress to Teheran, but declared they had orders from the
King directing me to carry on my negotiations with the
Prince-Regent of the province of Fars, and they had heard,
without being moved from their purpose, all those reasons
which Captain Pasley had in the most firm and spirited
manner urged to satisfy them. I would never consent to
an arrangement of so humiliating a nature towards myself
and the Government I represented as one which allowed a
French embassy to remain in the Presence while it directed
one from the English nation to treat with an inferior G^o-

vemment These circumstances convinced me that

nothing short of the adoption of some very strong mea-
sure would produce a change in the conduct of a Court
which was evidently acting under the influence of our
enemies, and it appeared particularly necessary that mea-
sure should be of a nature that would remove an impression
which the French had endeavoured to produce in Persia
— viz. that England had not an ally in the world, was
reduced to the last stage of distress, and consequently was
soliciting the friendship of the King of Persia from an in-
abiUty to preserve without his aid its possessions in India.
I determined, in consequence of these reflections, to strike
my camp next morning and to go on board the Doris, and
write to Captain Pasley to inform the Ministers of the
Prince at Shiraz why I have done so, informing them that
I never should re-land in Persia unless he was allowed to
proceed to Court, and I was assured of being treated with
less suspicion and more friendship.*

as* Slid JOHN MALCOLM, [i8o8.

Having done this, Malcolm determined to proceed to
Calcutta, and to take counsel with Lord Minto. In pur-
suance of this resolution he sailed from Bushire on the 12th
of July, leaving Pasley, who narrowly escaped being made
a prisoner, to represent the British mission, and ' hold on *
as best he could. It was a sore trial to him to be com-
pelled to pass Bombay, where his young wife was then
residing, without touching at that port. ' The resolution
to pass Bombay,* he wrote to Mrs Malcolm, ' believe me,
was not taken without pain 5 but my duty called for the
sacrifice, and you will be pleased that I had virtue and
firmness enough to make it. I hope to be at Calcutta
about the ist of September. I shall leave it for Bombay
about the ist of October, and arrive with my dearest
Charlotte about the loth of November. How long I stay
there is a speculation; but believe me the present step is
the only one I could take to enable me to do justice to the
great interests committed to my charge. These, by the
blessing of Grod, will yet prosper 5 and I shall have the
credit, if the victory is won, of having not been sparing of
exertion. A month with Lord Minto will do wonders.*

It was indeed a very trying period of his newly-born
domestic life \ for Malcolm, with those mingled sensations
of anxiety and delight which are common to our civilized
humanity, was anticipating, in this particular epoch, the
birth of his first child. ' Grood Grod,* he said, in one of his
letters, ' what a state of torturing suspense I am m ! But I
trust I shall soon be relieved fi"om all my fears, and then my
joys will be excessive.' And relief was coming to him,
even at that time, more nearly than he thought. At the

i8o8.] VISIT TO CALCUTTA, 253

mouth of the Gulf they spied a vessel, and bore down upon
her. She proved to be bound from Bombay, and, on
boarding her, Malcolm received a parcel of letters, in one of
which there was the cheering announcement of his wife's
safety and the birth of an infant daughter. It was an
additional delight to him to learn that the child had been
called Margaret, after his mother. 'God bless you for
giving her that name ! * he wrote in a letter full of love
and thankfulness to his wife \ ' it may not be so fine to the
ear, but it has, from belonging to one of the best and most
respected of women, a charm in it which will preserve our
darling, and make her all her parents could wish.'

On the 22nd of August, Malcolm landed at Calcutta.
The Grovernor-General's boat had been sent to meet him in
the Hooghly, and he was received, on his arrival at Grovern-
ment House, with the utmost kindness and cordiality by
Lord Minto, of whose public and private character he sent
to his wife a felicitous sketch, which the most studied
biography could not excel in fidelity of portraiture. He
had the pleasure, too, of meeting several old friends,
with whom he had been familiar in the days of Lord
Wellesley — Colebrooke and Lumsden (then members of
Council), and ' my excellent fnend John Adam,' who was
advancing to high honour in the Secretariat. Everybody
was anxious to see and to converse with Malcolm 5 but the
visit-paying and the hospitality were not sufficient to inter-
fere with business, and the envoy had ' several long discus-
sions with Lord Minto> and all satisfactory.' ' I am quite
overwhelmed with Lord Minto's kindness,' he wrote to his
wife. ' All people here seem to struggle who shall show

354 SIJ^ yOHN MALCOLM, [iSoS.

me greatest kindness. These marks of general esteem are
pleasing, but they would be a thousand times more so if
you were here to share them.'

Malcolm was one of those men who thoroughly under-
stand and appreciate the great doctrine of Compensatioa**.
He could discern ' a soul of goodness in things evil \ ' and
every year taught him to see more and more .clearly, in the
crosses and vexations of life, some compensatory benefits,
either inherent in themselves, or sent simultaneously by a
benignant Providence to mitigate their severity. The
cheerfulness for which he was so remarkable was the
growth of an unfailing sense of gratitude to the Almighty.
At this particular time he had been crossed in the concerns
both of his public and his private life j but with a signal
reversal of the famous Lucretian sentiment, he found the
duLce aliqmd surging up medio de fonte dolorum. There
came to him at this time most opportunely a shower of
those dear home-letters, which, before steam had vulgarized
them by rendering their receipt a mere matter of the
calendar, were to the Indian exile the refreshment and
revival which preserved his heart from becoming ' dry as
summer's dust.' They were from relatives and friends of
•all kinds — the nearest and the dearest, including his mother
and Arthur Wellesley — and were full of congratulations.
* If a fellow had written a novel,' he wrote to his wife,
^ and had puzzled his brain for a twelvemonth to make his
hero happy in the last chapter, he could not have been
happier than I was yesterday to hear such accounts of you
and Margaret, and to receive such letters from my relatives
—so full of joy and affection — ^to find that they all, without

i8o8.] SENT AGAIN TO THE PERSIAN GULF. 255

one exception, met you with that warm welcome of the
heart which is beyond all welcomes valuable.* And then
he sighed to think that the day seemed to be so remote
when it would be permitted him to embrace his mother
and sisters in England. * I am now/ he said, ' more deeply
than ever involved in public affairs — more honourably
because more largely.*

The result of Malcolm's conferences with Lord Minto
was that Sir Harford Jones was ordered to remain at
Bombay, and that Malcolm was instructed to return to the
Persian Gulf, and to establish himself, in a menacing
attitude, on the island of Karrack. He was to go to
Bombay, pick up a small army, and threaten Persia from
the sea-board. Lord Minto said to him, after a long fare-
well interview, * Your duties. General Malcolm,* are not to
be defined. All I can say is, you are placed in a situation
where you are as Hkely to go wrong from prudence as fix)m
the want of it.' There was nothing that Malcolm liked
better than such a hint as this. He went forth frdl of
enthusiasm — ^fired, more than ever^ by the thought that he
was about to engage in a great conflict with the French.
To all such stimulants there was the additional one, of
which he was ever sensible, derived from his new relations
as a husband and a father. He said of his public duties and
his piivate happiness, ' They are in such complete union,
that I should not be worthy of the blessings I enjoy from
the one if I were not devoted to the other. What indi-
vidual of my rank of life was ever called to act in so great a

* The rank of Brigadier^General had been given to him whilst
employed in Persia.

as6 Sl/d JOHN MALCOLM, \\%fA.

scene ? ... If opportunities offer, neither you nor your
children, my dearest wife, shall ever blush for my conduct.*
But even as he wrote a great disappointment was about
to fall upon him. He had not proceeded farther than
Kedgeree, on the Hooghly river, when he was recalled by
Lord Minto, who, just after Malcolm's departure, had re-
ceived intelligence that Sir Harford Jones had started for
Persia. This was, doubtless, a very awkward fact. * Kar-
rack,* wrote Lord Minto, * must necessarily be suspended.
We cannot commit hostilities on Persia while the King of
£ngland is negotiating with the King of Persia.' The logic
of this was indisputable. Malcolm bowed to it 5 and,
ordering his baggage to be transferred to another vessel,
returned to Calcutta to take counsel with Lord Minto.
His sudden reappearance at the Presidency caused great
surprise, and excited much curiosity.* It was soon, how-

* Malcolm has recorded an amusing illustration of this. In a
letter to his wife, he sajrs : * Your acquaintance, Mrs W , hap-
pened not to have been introduced to Lord Minto when she dined
here, and, mistaking him for another, she said, *' Do you know the
cause of General Malcolm's return to Calcutta ?" ** I believe I can
guess," was the Lord's reply. ** Pray, then, tell me," said the lady.
Lord Minto hesitated till afler we were seated at table, and then said,
** We had better give the General plenty of wine, and we shall get
this secret out of him." The lady, who had now discovered his rank,
began to make apologies. ** I assure you, my Lord," she said, " I
did not know you." **I am delighted at tliat compliment," he
replied^ " Not to be known as Governor-General in private society
is my ambition. I suppose," he added, laughing, '*you thought I
looked too young and too much of a puppy for that old grave fellow,
Lord Minto, whom you had heard people talking about" I mention
thb anecdote as very characteristic of that playful pleasantly which
makes Lord Minto so agreeable.'

x8o8.] MIS BOYISH HABITS. aS7

ever, resolved in council that Sir Harford Jones should be
repudiated or ignored.

Malcolm at first chafed under his detention in the ' vile
place without the consolation of Charlotte's letters 5 ' but in
his nature the sun was never long behind a cloud, and he
was very soon as cheerful and playfiil as ever, ' I have
been employed,* he wrote on the 13 th of October, * these
last three hours with John Elliot and other boys in trying
how long we could keep up two cricket-balls. Lord Minto
caught us. He says he must send me on a mission to some
very young monarch, for that I shall never have the gravity
of an ambassador for a prince turned of twelve. He, how-
ever, added the well-known and admirable story of Henry
IV. of France, who, when caught on all fours carrying one
of his children, by the Spanish Envoy, looked up, and said,
" Is your Excellency married ? *' ''I am, and have a family,*'
was the reply. ''Well, then,** said the monarch, ''I am
satisfied, and shall take another turn round the room.** And
off he galloped, with his little son, flogging and spurring
him, on his back. I have sometimes thought of breaking
myself of what are termed boyish habits 5 but reflection has
satisfied me that it would be very foolish, and that I should
esteem it a blessing that I can find amusement in every-
thing, from tossing a cricket-ball to negotiating a treaty
with the Emperor of China. Men who give themselves
entirely to business, and despise (which is their term) trifles,
are very able in their general conception of th^ great out-
lines of a plan, but they feel a want of that knowledge
which is only to be gained by mixing with all classes in the

world, when they come to those lesser points upon wWch
VOL. I. 17

as8 SIR JOHN MALCOLM. [1808— x8o^

its successful executioa may depend. Of this I am certam j
besides, all habits which give a man Hght, elastic spirits, are
good.*

On the 26th of October, Malcolm embarked for Bom-
bay. The voyage was rendered tedious, and to Malcolm very
trying, by baffling winds qfF Ceylon, and it was not imtil
the last day of November that the vessel entered Bombay
harbour. He had then a few days of domestic happiness j
but the work in hand soon demanded all his care. He had
to organize the force which he was to carry with him to
the Persian Gulf. The officers of the East India Company
have seldom been wanting in this power of organization,
and Malcolm was a man equally fertile of resource and
energetic in action. The new year found him with his
work nearly done. * I proceed to the Gulf in ten days,* he
wrote on the 3rd of January to Mr Henry Wellesley, ' with
an admirably well-appointed little force of two thousand
men, and am to be -followed, if it is found necessary, by
three or four thousand more. The object you know. It
is to make a settlement on the island of Karrack, and to
occupy a position on the shores of Persia and Eastern Tur-
key, from which we can negotiate with dignity, and act
with effect. But he had scarcely written this when the
vision of this establishment m tlie Gulf began to melt away 5
and a few days afterwards he wrote to one of the Directors
of the East India Company, saying : ' I am here at the head
of a very select corps of near two thousand men, and should
have sailed before this for the Gulf, had not Sii Harford
Jones been as successful in getting away from Bushire two
days before he received Lord Minto*s orders to return, as

1809.1 FUTILE PREPARA TIONS. 259

he was in escaping by twenty-four hours the orders of the
Supreme Government for him to remain in India. This
proceeding has produced a question connected with public
faith on which I have felt it my duty to write to Bengal,
and I shall probably be detained vmtil the lothof Februafry.

•

Perhaps the gleam of success in Europe may alter all Lord
Minto's plans, and I may be countermanded. If so, I shall,
with a feeling of delight (as far as I am personally concern-
ed), quit a scene into which I was completely pressed -, for
after the preference which the gentlemen at home had
given to Sir Harford Jones — ^after the complete neglect
with which they had^ treated me for eight years, during
which they have not noticed one of the numerous recom-
mendations of my political services, and after their inatten-
tion to my just claims for remuneration for losses, incurred
by my employment on extra missions (recommended to
their notice by the most economical of all their Governors,
Sir George Barlow) — I could feel no desire to embark on
a mission by which I was likely to lose all hopes of future
favour by coming into harsh contact with Sir Harford
Jones — the favourite elect. An urgent sense of public duty,
however, obliged me to attend to the call of the Supreme
Government, and here I am, embarked iipon a sea of
troubles, with a knowledge that they, whose interests it is
my incessant labour to promote, view all my efforts with an
eye of prejudice.*

His surmises were not baseless. Already Lord Minto
was beginning to think that the project so hastily formed
was not one of very wise conception 5 and before the end
of the month he had C9jiie to the determination of suspend-

96o Slid JOHN MALCOLM. [i8o^

ing the expedition to the Gulf. There were many good
reasons for this, but the Governor-General could not help
feeling that some apology was due to Malcolm, who had
been placed in a false position, out of which he could hardly
extricate himself without incurring some of that ridicule
which, reasonably or unreasonably, commonly attends all
iuch collapses as this 5 so, after entering at some length into
an explanation of the circumstances which rendered the
expedition to the Gulf at such a time one of doubtful ex-
pediency, he proceeded with characteristic kindliness to say,
' Knowing how your mind and all its powers have for such
a length of time been devoted to the.great interests involved
in the affairs of Persia, and generally in the Persian Gulf,
knowing how instrumental I have myself been in disturbing
the tranquillity, public and domestic, of your prominent
station of Mj^ore, and of kindling the very ardour which
this letter is to extinguish, I cannot but feel extreme r^ret
and disappointment at a termination which, on one hand,
withdraws such talents as yours, with all the energy that
belongs to your character, from the great field on which
they were tq be displayed, and, on the other hand, may
seem to blight the rich fruits of honour and distinction
which you were on the point of gathering. These are
sentiments in which I hope and am convinced you firmly
believe, while I rely on the rectitude as well as strength of
mind which distinguish you, for feeling that they are senti-
ments which may be permitted to follow, but which could
not be allowed any share in forming, our resolution on this
great public question.*
^ It would not be true to say tl^ Malcolm was not dis-

iBoo.] MUTINY OP THE MADRAS OFFICERS. a6z

appointed 5 but for such a man there were always compens-
ations close at hand^ and he very soon reconciled himself
to a loss out of which might be evolved much gain of an-
other kind. He might now, he thought, return to the
Mysore Residency, to solace himself there with the delights
of domestic life and the amenities of literary leisure. At
such times, the many-sidedness of the man was very plea-
santly manifested. If he could not make any more history,
he could write it. His intercourse with Sir James Mackin-
tosh fired anew his literary ambition 5 and he was thinking
now of making great progress with his History of Persia
and with his Political History of India, But to such a man
as Malcolm repose was not very readily granted. He had
scarcely returned to Madras when his services were again
required in an imminent conjuncture. The European
officers of the Madras army were in a state of revolt.
The crisis was a very alarming one j and, perhaps, we do
not even now know how nearly the State was wrecked.
At Masulipatam, especially, there was a perilous state of
things, for the Madras European regiment was garrisoned
there, and it was believed that the men would follow their
officers, and hoist the flag of sedition. Sir Greorge Barlow
was then Grovemor of Madras. The presence of Malcolm
was most opportune. If any man could restore discipline
to the troops at Masulipatam, he could do it. He wag
asked, and he consented to go. He took ship at the begin-
ning of July, 1809, and was soon landed at Masulipatam.
He found that the exasperation of the officers was even
greater than he had expected. But he resolved to confront
it with that frank, cheery, popular manner so peculiar to

a6a S/H JOHN MALCOLM. [1809.

himself, by which he had so often worked his way to
success. He met the officers, talked the matter over
freely and candidly with them, admitting as much as he
safely could (for in part he sympathized with them), and
afterwards joined them at Mess. After dinner, a young
officer, flushed with wine, proposed as a toast, ' Our Com-
mon Cause.' With characteristic readiness of address, Mal-
colm rose and said, 'Ay — the common cause of our country.'
The amendment was received and drank with enthusi-
asm, and soon afterwards his own health was toasted with
universal applause. This seemed to be the turning-point.
On the following day the leading officers of the garrison
discussed the whole subject calmly with him 5 and, though
it was not easy to allay their irritation, he held 'them in
check, and endeavoured by mild persuasions, not wanting
in dignity and resolution, to lure them back to their allegi-
ance to the State. Sir Greorge Barlow thought that he was
too conciliatory — that such rebellion as theirs should not
have been so treated. He sent a general officer, named
Pater, to take command at Masulipatam, and Malcolm re-
turned to Madras. A controversy then arose, which was
maintained in vital force for some years. Some thought
Malcolm was right, some thought that he was wrong in
principle 5 but practically, at least, he gained time 5 and I
am inclined to think that, if he had adopted any other
course, the Masulipatam officers, followed by their men,
would have formed a junction with the mutineers at Hy-
derabad, Jaulnah, &c., and that the danger would have
risen to a point which, imder the more conciliatory system,
it was never suffered to attain.

1809.] MUTINY OF THE MADRAS OFICERS. 263

The Grovernment of Sir George Barlow took an ad-
verse view of Malcolm's conduct, and recorded a strong
opinion on the subject, the justice of which he never
admitted. ' Lieut.-Colonel Malcolm * — sp ran the official
despatch — ' appears to have adopted a course of proceeding
entirely different from that which we had in view in
deputing him to Masulipatam. He abstained from making
any direct commimication to the men, and when we
authorized him, with the view of detaching the trpops
from the cause of their officers, to proclaim a pardon to
the European and Native soldiers for the part which they
might have taken in the lAutiny, he judged it to be proper
to withhold the promulgation of the pardon from an appre-
hension (as stated in his letter to our President, dated the
1 8th of July) of irritating the minds of the European officers,
and driving them to despair. To this apparently unreason-
able forbearance, and attention to the feelings of officers
who had, by their acts of violence and aggression, forfeited
all claims to such consideration, may, we conceive, be
ascribed Lieut.-Colonel Malcolm's failure in the establish-
ment of any efficient control over the garrison ; and he
appears to have been principally occupied during the period
of his residence at Masulipatam in negotiations with the
disorderly committees, calculated, in our opinion, to com-
promise rather than establish his authority, and in fruitless
attempts to induce them by argvunent to return to their
duty and abandon the criminal combination in which they
had engaged.*

The question is one, on both sides of which much may
be said, and I do not purpose here to examine it in detail.

2d4 SIR JOHN MALCOLM. [xSog^

It is more to the purpose of this biography to say^ that
Malcolm dealt with the immediate business intrusted to
him in the manner in which a man of his character and
temperament might be expected to deal with it. It was
his wont always to appeal to the better part of men*s
natures when there was a fair chance of doing so with suc-
cess. He had some not inexcusable pride in his powers of
conciliation, and it pleased him in this instance to turn to
account the feeling of comradeship which he inspired. If
he yielded too much^ it is to be remembered that the al-
ternative was one terrible to contemplate. Had it been
attempted to subdue the mutincfUs spirit of the oflSicers by
force, the power of the soldiery must have been employed
against their old commanders — a remedy almost worse than
the disease. Looking at the matter coolly and dispassion-
ately from a distance. Sir James Mackintosh, I am disposed
to think, took a right view of the question and of its diffi-
culties, when he said : ' An appeal to the privates against
their immediate superiors is a wound in the vitals of an
army. The relation of the private soldier to the subaltern
is the keystone of the arch. An army may survive any
other change, but to dissolve that relation is to dissolve
the whole. There begins the obedience of the many to
the few. In civil society this problem appears of most
difficult solution. But there it is the obedience of the
dispersed and unarmed many. It is rare, and in well-
regulated communities almost unfelt. In military bodies it
is the hourly obedience, even to death, of the armed and
embodied many. The higher links which bind subalterns
to their superiors, and these to one chief, are only the

iSo9.] SUMMONED AGAIN TO GO TO PERSIA, 065

obediences of the few to a fewer, and of these fewer to
one. These things are easily intelligible. Honour and
obvious interest are sufficient to account for them. But
the obedience of the whole body of soldiers to their im-
mediate officers is that which forms an army, and which
cannot be disturbed without the utmost danger of its .total
destruction.*

The anxiety and distress whic^ Malcolm suffered at
this time were not, however, of long continuance. He had
scarcely returned to Madras, when he again received from
the Grovemor-Greneral a summons to proceed to Persia. In
the estimation of Lord Minto, Sir Harford Jones had been
doing his work in a manner so undignified, and so unworthy
of the great nation which he represented, that it required
the best exertions of an ambassador of another kind to
restore our tarnished reputation. So he wrote to Malcolm,
saying : ' I need not tell you all that has been done through
the zealous ministry of Sir Harford Jones to lower the rank
and estimation of the British Government of India within
the sphere of his influence. I am entirely convinced that
the empire at large is deeply interested in maintaining, or
rather, I must now say, in restoring the British dominion
in India to that eminence amongst the states of Asia on
which the mission of Sir Harford Jones found it established.
But if I had any doubts of my own upon that point, I
should still think it amongst my first duties to transmit to
my successor the powers, prerogatives, and dignities of our
Indian Empire in its relations — I mean with the surround-
ing nations — as entire and unsullied as they were confided
to my hands 3 and I should esteem it a disgraceful violation

866 SIJi JOHN MALCOLM, [1810.

of my great trust to let the most powerful arid the noblest
empire of the £ast suffer in my custody the slightest debase-
ment, unless the commands of my Sovereign and superiors
should require in very explicit terms a change so much to
be deprecated. I entreat you, therefore, to go and lift us
to our own height, and to the station that belongs to us,
once more.' Lord Minto soon followed his letter to
Madras, where he received Malcolm with great cordiality
and kindness, and talked over with him the details of the
new mission to the Court of the Shah.

By the end of the year Malcolm's arrangements were
complete; and on the loth of January he again sailed for
the Persian Gulf, attended by a brilliant staff of yoimg
officers, full of enterprise and enthusiasm, eager for action,
and aU fondly attached to their leader. His passage was
retarded by contrary winds, but he found compensation
even for this in the leisure which it afforded him for the
completion of his Political History of India, ' Five chapters
are finished and corrected,' he wrote to his wife a month
after he had embarked, ' and the sixth and last is commenced
this morning. I begin now to look forward with great
delight to that enchanting word. Finis, The moment I
cease to write I will have a jubilee. I mean to dance,
hunt, shoot, and play, myself, and ]et who wiU write
histories, memoirs, and sketches.' Four days afterwards
Malcolm landed at Bushire, where he was received with
becoming respect and attention. Sending forward the
letter of which he was the bearer to the King, he encamped
himself with his suite, and waited for an answer. Nearly
two months were spent at Bushire, but neithe- unprofitably

i8xo.] THE NEW PERSIAN MISSION 067

nor unpleasantly, for Malcolm finished his History, and
then began, as he said, ' to hunt, and shoot, and ride, and^
revel in all the delights of idlenesSi* The companionship
of the fine, high-spirited youngsters who formed his Staff,
was very pleasant to ' Boy Malcolm > * and many a joyous
day of hunting or exploring had they together whilst the
firman of the King, which was to order them to advance,
was slowly making its way from Teheran. It came at last,
on the 8th of April, and was received in camp with a royal
salute. A few days afterwards the mission commenced
its march for the Persian capital.

As the mission advanced, Malcolm found everywhere
that the greed for British gold and costly presents, which
he had himself ten years before done something to stimu-
late, had been greatly strengthened by the lavish givings of
Sir Harford Jones. 'These people,' he wrote, 'are like
ferocious animals who have once tasted blood. Nothing
else will satisfy them. They cry out for money as shame-
lessly as if it were their natural food. I have been obliged
to come to very high words, and have no doubt that I have
much disgusted them.* They were scarcely less anxious to
bribe than to be bribed. Whilst Malcolm was at Shiraz, it •
was intimated to him by the Minister that a costly present
of jewels had been prepared as a gift to his wife. Check-
ing his first feeling of indignation, Malcolm replied : ' Tell
your master that when I was at Mysore, the Minister there
would gladly have heaped costly presents upon us j but in-
stead of this, on my persuasion, he made a fine new road
that was much wanted, and dedicated it to Mrs Malcolm.
Such are the presents I like.*

96d s/j^ John Malcolm. {avu

Malcolm's great difficulty was Sir Harford Jones ; but
#even this was overcome in time, and the unseemly antagon-
ism between the two envoys, to which the Persians looked
hopefidly in the expectation that they would endeavour to
out-bribe each other, brought at last to an end. The King
received Malcolm with all due honour in his royal camp at
Sultaneah, and both his Majesty and the Prince Abbas
Merza paid him the most gratifying personal attentions. On
the occasion of his first audience, Futteh Ali welcomed
him with the greatest cordiality, told him to be seated, and
cut short his ambassadorial speech by telling him to talk
about himself. Malcolm was not slow to obey 3 but they
soon branched into a general conversation on the politics of
Europe, in which the career and character of Napoleon
occupied no small place.

It is not necessary to follow in detail the history of this
second mission to Persia, the chief results of which were
that, primarily in Malcolm's honour, the order of the Lion
and the Sun was instituted, and that additional materials
were collected for the long-contemplated History of Persia.
The Company's Government, in the person of their repre-
• sentative, were sufficiently lustrated 5 but as the manage-
ment of our Persian relations was thenceforth intrusted to
the King's Ministers, this was not of much importance.
The object, however, for which Malcolm had been sent to
the Court of the Shah was abundantly attained, and after
having received his audience of leave, he was fully entitled to
write to Lord Minto, saying : ' I cannot but conceive th^t
the conduct of the King towards me must have the best
effects towards the full accomplishment of those objects

i8io— 12.] RETURN TO ENGLAND. dSg

which your Lordship had in view when you deputed me
to this Court, as it marked in a manner not to be mistaken
his great respect and consideration for the Government
which I represented.' A few days afterwards he wrote in
his journal : ' What a happy man I am ! It is impossible
to look back without congratulating myself on my good
fortune at every stage of my late vexatious and unpromising
mission. I have now turned my back, and I hope for ever,
on deceit, falsehood, and intrigue j and I am bending my
willing steps and still more willing heart towards rectitude,
truth, and sincerity. I leave all I hate, and am proceeding
towards all I love. May God make my journey prosper-
ous ! * But there was still a little more trouble in store for
him, both from the cupidity of the Persians and their dis-
sensions on the Turkish border 5 and it was not without
some difficulty that he at last made good his route to
Bombay.

There was now at last a brief season of repose for him.
He took up his residence at Bombay early in the year 181 1,
and addressed, himself assiduously to the completio(i of the
financial accounts of his mission to Persia, and the compos-
ition of his long-contemplated history. There he met, for
the second time. Sir James Mackintosh, with whom he
entered into the bonds of a lifelong fiiendship, and was
soon joined by his old comrade, Mountstuart Elphinstone,
who, after returning from his mission to Afghanistan, had
been appointed Resident at Poonah. In the following
year, Malcolm, with his wife and children, took ship for
England, uncertain about the future. There wa*e times
when he thought of retiring from the service, of farming

970 SIJi JOHN MALCOLM, \jAim.

and horse-breeding ; but he was then in the full vigour of
his manhood^ and to abandon such a career at the age of
forty-three required such strong inducements and substan-
tial reasons as even the love of country and the charms of
a happy home could not supply. But no man could more
thoroughly enjoy life in his native country. There was
but one drawback to the happiness of his return — one that
has turned the joy of too many an Indian exile into sorrow
—death had broken into the family circle. Both his
parents were dead. He had started from Bombay full of
the delightful hope of soon seeing his wife and children in
his mother's arms 3 but news of her death met him at St
Helena^ and the blow fell heavily upon him.

In the course of July (181 2), he landed in England^
and soon, having taken a house near Cheshunt, in Hert-
fordshire, he located his family there, and proceeded to
Scotland, to revisit the scenes of his youth. There, in his
own native Dumfries-shire, he ' went to visit all, high and
low, that had known him as a child.' ' Visited the graves
of my parents,* he added, in the journal which he kept at
the time, ' and heard the noblest praise of them from the
aged, the infirm, and the poor that they had aided and sup-
ported 5 and to whom the aid and support of the family are
still given.* At Bumfoot he was received with rapturous
delight by all — scarcely less by the old servants and de-
pendents of the femily than by his own nearest kindred.
On John Malcolm observing to one old servant that there
had been many changes, but that he hoped that it was still, as
before, a good house to live in, the man replied, ' Faith, it's
mair than that — ^it's the best house to die in of a' Scotland,"

x8i3.] KNIGHTED BY THE PRINCE REGENT, aji

Having accomplished this visit to the norths Malcokn
returned to London, and before the end of the year he was
knighted by the Prince Regent. Soon afterwards, he was
examined before a Committee of the House of Commons.*
This interested and employed him j and he was working
assiduously at his History of Persia ; but the stirring events
of the great war in the Peninsula, and the success of his old
friend Arthur Wellesley, now Duke of Wellington, raised
within him a desirfe for active employment, and he asked
the Duke if he could not obtain service for him. Welling-
ton told him to go into Parliament. . 'Although I had
long,* he wrote, 'been in habits of friendship with the
public men of the day, and had some professional claims to

* I shall refer presently to Malcolm's military evidence ; but I
quote the following as evidencing his prescience and sagacity. But
it was not till half a century later that the full truth was apparent.
* I think/ he said, * of all the powers which are vested in the local
Government, there is none more essential to its existence in full vigour
and force than that which enables them to restrain the local residence
of every individual European to particular parts of the empire. If
Britislv subjects were allowed to go in the manner described to India,
the effects would be various, agreeably to the places to which they
went. If to the Presidencies, where British courts of law are estab-
lished, there would be no other danger, I conceive, resulting from
them, but what might arise from their great numbers, and the
changes in the condition of the society, and eventually and gradually
of the Government, from that circumstance ; but if they went to any
ports where there was no established authority to control them, and
if they proceeded into the interior of the country, there would no
doubt be much mischief arising from those quarrels which must in-
evitably ensue with the natives, which mischief would vary from a
himdred local causes connected with the character of the natives of
the places to which they resorted.'

ITS SIR JOHN MALCOLM, [1813—14,

public notice when I returned to England, I believe that
I should have been but Httle known, and should not be
what I am, if I had not gone into Parliament. I would
therefore advise you to go into Parliament, if 70U can afford
it, if you look to high public employment.' In the follow-
ing year the great Duke paid a brief visit to England, amidst
the enthusiastic plaudits of an admiring nation ; but he had
not been many hours in London before he made his way
to Manchester-street, to shake his dear friend, John Mai*
colm, by the hand, and excited the suspicions of an incre-
dulous old servant by announcing himself as the Duke of
Wellington — ^a name with which at that moment the whole
country was ringing.

In no man, perhaps, was that feeling of esprit de corps,
which has so much that is kind, and generous, and noble
in it, and which binds men together by the best ties of
comradeship in the service of the State, stronger than it
was in Malcolm. He never denied the existence in him-
self of that ' infirmity of noble minds,* a love of personal
distinction. He always said that he was by nature ambi-
tious, and that he desired nothing so much as to s^ that
his services were honourably recognized by the Crown, and
that the fountain of honour was not sealed against him.
But he did not think only of his own honour. He regarded
himself, and rightly, as a representative man, and it was
his greatest object of all to make a precedent which would
benefit the Company's Army, firom generation to genera-
tion, so long as the service should endure. He had a strong
and not unreasonable sense that good work done in India
was in no wise regarded, as it ought to be, in the light of

t8T4.] CLAIMS OF THE COMPANY'S ARMY. 27.^

•

an imperial benefit, to be recognized and rewarded by the
sovereign rulers of the empire. In spite of all the great
lieroic deeds that had been done in India, there was still a
tendency to sneer at the Company's Army as a merchant
service, and the King's officers, though compelled to recog-
nize both the fine qualities and the noble actions of their
comrades in the Indian regiments, somewhat grudged their
participation in the honorary distinctions which had been
exclusively reserved for the immediate servants of the
Crown. The jealousies which Lord Comwallis so much
deplored, and which he had endeavoured so strenuously to
remove, were still in active vitality ten years after his death.
The Prince Regent h^d knighted Malcolm, as he might
have knighted any other ' merchant fellow * — a provincial
mayor or an alderman of London, men often very worthy
of such honour, but not to be classed with the heroes of
the East. What Malcolm coveted was the Order of the
Bath J and the feeling that there was any likelihood of its
being denied to him, because he was an Indian officer, was
rendered all the more painful to him by the fact that his
two brothers — James in the Marines, and Pulteny in the
Navy — were likely now to be made Knights Companions
of the great coveted Order. They had, doubtless, done
good service 5 but not such good service as brother John,
and he could not help feeling that if it had not been for
the stamp of the ' Company * upon him, his claims would
have been considered at least as good as those of the other
Burnfoot boys.

But it was not merely for this claim, on the part of the

Company's service, to just participation in the honorarv
VOL. I. 18

274 ^^^ JOHN MALCOLM. [i8i4.

distiiictioiis emanating from the Crown that Malcobn had
now to contend. The superior military commands were
given generally to the officers of the King's Army. Some
of the worst abuses that had existed in the old days of Corn-
wallis and Wellesley had been reformed 5 but these very
reforms, whilst they had rendered the Company's service
less lucrative, had not, externally at least, rendered it more
honourable. In the old times, even the military officers
of the Company, by means of contracts of different kinds,
carried on business very much upon ' the mercantile bot-
tom,' but when, little by little, this unwholesome system
was abolished — the last blow struck at it having roused the
Madras officers to mutiny — it would have been sound
policy to have increased the number of legitimate profess-
ional prizes, both in the direction of lucrative commands
and honorary distinctions. It was Malcolm's great object
to accomplish this for his comrades in the Indian Army —
to be, as it were, the pioneer of their honours. With this
hope he had drawn up some elaborate papers for the Presi-
dent of the Board of Control,* and had contrived that some

* Malcolm sums up one of these papers by pointing out * the im-
portance of directing the views of the officers of the Indian Army yet
more than we have done to England, and of elevating the Company's
service, by obtaining for such of that service as may merit a fair par-
ticipation in the favour of the Crown, and a full admission of their
pretensions to the highest offices (particularly in India), on the
ground that granting to them such consideration is not more necessary
to benefit it, by giving it the advantage of all the talent that is reared
and matured in its service, than it is to infuse ambition and high prin-
ciples of military feeling into an army which is now upon a scale that
tlemands the action of such motives to preserve it in a state of disci*
{^ine and attachment.'

i8i4.] HONOURS, 275

of the questions put to him in his examination before Par-
liament should be so put as to elicit information respecting
the depressed state of the Company's service. With this
hope he pointed out that the exclusion of the Company's
officers from the honours, especially those of the Bath, so
freely bestowed upon the King's service, had ' beyond all
other causes tended to damp that ardour and high military
feeling which are always essential to the character of an
officer, but, above all others, of officers so situated as those
of the Company's service are in India.* With this hope,
he exerted all his influence to obtain a recognition by the
Crown of his own services, well assured that there was no
officer in the Company's service who had striven more to
deserve it. No man knew this better than the President of
the Board of Control, the Earl of Buckinghamshire, who,
as Lord Hobart, Governor of Madras, had known Malcolm
well in India, and what he had done for the State. And
his recommendations, aided, perhaps, by the irresistible in-
fluence of the Duke of Wellington, obtained at last for
Malcolm the honou;; which he sought. In April, 1814,- he

* When asked, * Has any mark of honour or public distinction
been bestowed by the Cro\vn on any officer of the Company's Aniiy
for military services ? ' he answered, * I have no recollection of any
such mark of distinction within thirty years, except one : the dignity
of baronet was granted to Sir John Braithwaite, when he was super-
seded by a junior of&cer of his Majesty's service in India, from the
command of the Army of Fort St George, to which he had been pro-
visionally appointed.' Colonel Barry Close had been created a
baronet, but not on account of his military services. He died in 1813,
and the Annual Register oi that year, after detailing the chief incidents
of his career, says that ' his eminent services in India were not reward-
ed with any honours.'

876 SIR JOHN MALCOLM. [1814.

was made a Knight Companion of the Bath.* Two months
before, the same high distinction had been conferred on
his brothers James and Pulteny — a triple honour, of which
not only Burnfoot, or Eskdale, or Dumfries-shire, btit all
Scotland, might well be proud.

Nor were these the only honours in store for him at
this period of his career. In the same year. Sir John Mal-
colm also won his spurs as an historian. His History of
Persia was published, by Murray, in two magnificent
quarto volumes, and was -^ most favourably received by the
literary world, both of England and of France. From
many of the most distinguished writers of the day, including
Byron and Scott, he received warm tributes of admiration,
and had every reason to be satisfied with the success of his
work. But in the life of Sir John Malcolm literature was
only a digression. It is probable, that if he had been less
a man of action, he would have been more highly esteemed
as a man of letters. Whilst thinking of what he did, we
are apt sometimes to forget our obligations to him for what
he wrote.

The following year was the great Waterloo year; and,
after the battle, Malcolm, like a host of other eager excited
Englishmen, went to Paris to see the fun. No one could
have gone there under happier auspices, for no one could
have been more warmly welcomed by the great man who
was then master of the situation. Nothing, indeed, could
have exceeded the friendly attention of Wellington to njm

* The Order of the Bath was not divided into the three existing
divisions of Grand Cross, Knight Commander, and Companion, until
the following yeai.

iSt's.] MALCOLM and WELLINGTON, 277

during the whole period of his stay in the French capital.
He met also a most flattering reception from some of the
most eminent French savans — especially those interested in
Oriental literature — and, sensible of his own deficiency in
this respect, he put himself to school to learn the French
language. The journal which he kept at this period is
most interesting. The following passages are equally il-
lustrative in an historical and biographical sense. They
throw some light on the history of the great battle, and
they pleasantly illustrate the lifelong friendship between
Malcolm and the Duke.

' Paris, July 24. — ... I went to the Duke's hotel.
He had not returned from the review, so Allan and myself
left our names, and the moment he came in (five o'clock),

t

Colonel Campbell brought us a message requesting we
would dine with him, and that we would bring Iiord John
Campbell, who was our fellow-traveller. We found the
Duke with a large party seated at dinner. He called out,
in his usual manner, the moment I entered, " Ah ! Mal-
colm, I am delighted to see you." I went and shook
hands, introduced Lord John Campbell, and then sat down.
I mention this trifle because it showed me at once that his
astonishing elevation had not produced the slightest change.
The tone — the manner — everything was the same. After
dinner, he left a party he was with when I entered, and,
shaking me by the hand, retired to one end of the room,
where he shortly stated what had occurred within the event
ful month. *' People ask me for an account of the action/
he said. '* I tell them it was hard pounding on both sid<%
and we pounded the hardest. There was no manoeuvring,

278 S//^ JOHN MALCOLM. [1815.

he said 3 '' Buonaparte kept his attacks, and I was glad to
let it be decided by the troops. There are no men in Eu-
rope that can fight like my Spanish infantry ^ none have
been so tried. Besides/' he added, with enthusiasm, *' my
army and I know one another exactly. We have a mutual
confidence, and are never disappointed." " You had, how-
ever," I observed, "more than half of your troops of other
nations." " That did not signify," he said, " for I had dis-
covered the secret of mixing them up together. Had I
employed them in separate corps, I should have lost the
battle. The Hanoveriaas," he added, " are good troops,
but the new Dutch levies are bad. They, however, served
to fill gaps, and I knew where to place them." After
some more conversation on this subject he went up to
AJlan, and began the conversation again. Allan and my-
self expressed our gratification at seeing the state of the
hospitals at Brussels, and told him how delighted we were
to find, that through the discipline he had established, and
the good conduct of the troops, the English character stood
so high that the name was a passport to the houses Of those
they had conquered. He said that he had done everything
he could to effect this object. "The Prussians," he ob-
served, " behaved horridly, and had not only lost character,
but their object, for more was destroyed than taken j and
in such scenes of indiscriminate pillage and harshness, those
who deserved to suffer often escaped, and the benefit, when
there was any, generally fell to them who deserved it least.
My doctrine has always been the same," said he 5 "to go
to work systematically — to play light with individuals, but
grind the State." I remarked that he had taken advantage

iSrsJ AFTER WATERLOO. 279

of an event which staggered credulity — that of an English
army occupying the capital of France — to act in a manner
that was calculated to soften the asperity and lessen the
hatred of two great rival nations. "That very observation,"
he replied, ''was made to me some days ago by Talleyrand."
''I trust, however," I added, ''that France will be deprived
of the means of attacking other nations, particularly the
newly-created kingdom of the Netherlands, for they may
be termed, as a nation, the most elastic in the world." He
said that was true, and care should be taken j but I thought
that he seemed to think dismantling the frontier places was
better than giving them up. When I stated that I could
not discover any great strength in the position of the battle
of Waterloo, but that it seemed the description of ground
that might have been impartially chosen to decide a day
between two great nations, he replied that there was no
advantage j that the French artillery had rather the highest
ridge. I asked him if he knew the foundation of the as-
sertion made by Lord Bathurst, with respect to his (Well-
ington's) having surveyed the ground arid declared he would
fight a battle there if he could. He said that he had di-
rected the ground to be looked at, and in the impression that
it might be a good site for a few troops, as it was clear of
the forest and commanded two great roads 5 but he never
had, he said, thought of fighting a battle there. " The
fact is," he observed, " I should have fought them on the
17th at Quatre Bras, if the Prussians had stood their ground.
My retiring to Waterloo was a matter of necessity, not
choice.". I asked him if Blucher had co-operated well.
" Nothing could be better," he said. " I sent him word

aSo S/^ JOHN MALCOLM. [1815.

that I knew I should be attacked at Waterloo. He said
he would be ready on the 19th." "That would not an-
swer," I replied, " as I was assured I shoiold be attacked
on the 1 8th, and that I woiold be satisfied with Bulow's
corps. Blucher then wrote or sent word that he would
send Bulow^s corps and another, and came himself
with his whole army to my support." The Duke said he
saw Bulow at three^ " The Prussians had told him," he
said, ''about their Horse." The Prince Pozzo di Borgo^
who dined with us, told me that he was with the Duke
through the whole day of the i8th. '' It was one of those
actions," he said, *' that depended upon their commander
being continually in the hottest place, for nothing coiold be
neglected. We were a great part of the time," he said,
" between the two armies : but the coolness of the Duke,"
he added, '' is not to be described. Considerable troops of
Belgians stationed at Hougoimiont gave way. The Duke,
turning to me, said, smiling,'* Vodil des coquins avec qui
il faut gagner une bataille.* " I was so struck with this
characteristic anecdote, that I went to the Duke, and I
asked him if it was true. He said Pozzo di Borgo had re-
peated his exact words. I was much pleased with the con-
versation of Pozzo di Borgo. He said, speaking of Metter-
nich, that he did not merit the abuse that was given him.
" Some men," said he, "direct circumstances, others go along
with them. He is not of the first class." This observa-
tion was i)iade in reply to some remarks Sir S. Smith had
made upon Metternich*s character. Pozzo di Borgo told
me, that he had maintained throughout the whole ^country
that England was lost it her Ministers ever admitted any

i8i5— 16.] AFTER WATERLOO, 281

negotiation that proceeded on the possibility of either Great
Britain or her possessions in India being invaded/

Among other entries in the joumgl, of a more general
character, is the following : * Walter Scott is here. I took
him to the Duke, who has been very attentive to him. He
wrote me to bring him to dinner to-day (August 19), and
that he would make a party to meet him. The poet is
happy.* It is a misfortune that there is no record of what
passed on that evening 3 for as it is probable that there
were no two men in France or England, at that time, with
a larger stock of anecdote between them, than that pos-
sessed by Walter Scott and John Malcolm, we may be sure
that the table-talk was of a very edifying and amusing kind.

Highly delighted with his continental visit, Malcolm
returned to England in the autunm of 1815, and soon be-
gan to debate within himself the great question of a return
or no-return to India, as he could not take his wife and
young family with him to that country. There were
strong appeals on behalf of the latter continually tugging
at his heart-strings y but it would, doubtless, be for their
good that he should return to India, for, notwithstandhigf
his great opportunities, he had amassed but a small fortune.
So, after a while, he determined to continue his Indian
career, and he took his passage in a ship which was to sail
in October. Some months before his departure (June,
18 16) Oxford conferred upon him the honorary degree of
Doctor of Laws.

On the 17th of March, 1817, Sir John Malcolm landed

282 S/R JOHN MALCOLM, [1817.

at Madras. During his absence from India great events
had been born in that country, and still greater were taking
shape in the womb of time. The Nepaul war had been
fought out ; and vast preparations were being matured for
the commencement of another war in Central India. This
did not surprise Malcolm, who looked upon the general
confusion of political affairs in Hindostan as the inevitable
growth of the imperfect settlement which had been effected,
under orders from England, by Lord Comwallis And -Sir
George Barlow. But it was not easy to see at that time
the direction which the war would take, and who would
be our enemies in the field. The immediate evil, at which
it was a pressing necessity that the Government of India
should strike, was that great tyranny of the Pindarrees — a
half military, half predatory domination, born of the last
war and nurtured by the weakness of the substantive
States. These substantive States had been for years fester-
ing with suppressed enmity against the English j and it was
probable that as soon as our armies should take the field
against the Pindarrees, the Princes of Central India, either
in 'anger or. in fear, would throw off the mask, assume a
menacing attitude, and compel us to attack them. The
crisis was a great one 5 and it was fortunate that at that
time the chief direction of affairs was in the hands of a
man, who, as Lord Comwallis had done in the last century,
combined in his own person the two offices of Governor-
Greneral and Commander-in-Chief. That young '7x>rd
Rawdon,* who had served with distinction under Comwallis
in the American War, and who had ever been among the
warmest friends and admirers of that soldier-statesman, had

i8r7.] RETURN TO INDIA, 283

gone out to India as the Earl of Moira, holding the chief
civil and military authority 5 and he had «ow determined,
like Cornwallis, to take the field in person against present
and prospective enemies. In this conjuncture it was great
gain to him to know that Malcolm had returned to India^
It was not long, therefore, after the arrival of the latter at
Madras that he received a letter from the Grovemw-Gen-
eral, saying : ' Let me assure you that I fully appreciate
your talents and energy, and I shall rejoice if I find a fit
field for their employment. I hear that for five months to
come we must be restricted to Cabinet activity j perhaps
in that interval you may be tempted to pay a visit to Ben-
gal, when the opportunity of giving you such an insight
into matters as cannot be afforded you by letter, may lead
to your striking out a mode in which you may exert your-
self with satisfaction. Upon this hint Malcolm at once
took ship for Calcutta. There he was received with the
most flattering courtesy and kindliness by the Govemor-
Greneral, and was at once taken into his confidence.

It was a political conjuncture of the most serious* charac-
ter 5 for a state of things had, by this time, arisen in Central
India which afforded us too much reason to believe that
the Pindarree operations would involve us in a war with the
substantive Mahratta States. There was not a man in In-
dia who knew more about those States than Sir John Mal-
colm, nor one whom the Grovernor-General was more eager
to employ. After a pleasant sojourn of a few weeks he re-
turned to Madras, with a mixed military and political com-
mission from the Grovernor-General. 'My situation is
most flattering,' he wrote from that Presidency. ' As Go-

•84 5//? JOHN MALCOLM. [1817.

vernor-General^s agent, all political work connected with
our operations is- in my hands; as Brigadier-General, I am
destined for the most advanced force j and, what is really
delightful, from the Govemor-Greneral down to the lowest
black or white, red or brown, clothed or naked, all appear
happy at my advancement.*

I have reached an epoch of Malcolm's life which is so
crowded with incident that it becomes necessary to resort
to the utmost degree of compression that is consistent with
the intelligibility of the narrative.* In the summer of this
year, Malcolm, in pursuance ofthe objects of his diplomatic
appointment, visited the great political^ Residencies of
Southern India, passing firom Mysore to Hyderabad, and
from Hyderabad to Poonah; sometimes riding long distances
on horseback, and at others being carried in a palanquin.
At Poonah he took sweet counsel with his friend Mount-
Stuart 'Elphinstone, and afterwards visited the Peishwah,
Badjee Rao, who received him with the most signal court-
esy and respect. Malcolm tendered the Prince the best
possible* advice, and he promised to take it ; but he was
entirely wanting in steadfastness of character, and when the
hour of trial came he utterly disappointed his English friend,
who had hoped better things from him. From Poonah,
Malcolm returned to Hyderabad to complete the necessary
arrangements for the advance of the army of the Deccan.
From Hyderabad he hastened to Nagpore, where he met
another old friend and associate, Richard Jenkins; and

• These events, indeed, belong rather to history than to biography,
and a part, at least, of the story is told m the subsequent Memoir of
Mr Elphinstone.

i8i7.] ^^^ WITH THE MAHRATTA STATES, 285

having taken counsel with him, relative to the affairs of that
State, he was eager to press on to join the army of the Ner-
budda, and to mergp his political into his military character.

On the 29th of October he took command of his divi-
sion at Hurda. ' I do not contemplate,' he wrote, ' that
the Pindarrees will resist us. Scindiah has long submitted,^
and ruin ipust attend any tangible power that opposes us ^
but still, we shall have much work, and I am to have (for
which thank God) more than a common share. I am de-
lighted with the work I have, the object of which is, be-
yond all wars, to give peace and prosperity to a miserable
people and a wasted country.' On the loth of November,
Sir Thomas Hislop, who had chief command of the army
advancing from that side of the country, joined the force,
and on the 15 th, Malcolm crossed the Nerbudda in purstlit
of the Pindarrees. At the beginning of December he was
in chase of the celebrated freebooter, Cheetoo ; but he had
soon nobler game in view.

I have said that it was only too likely, from the first,
that the war primarily undertaken for the dispersion of the
Pindarrees would end in a great conflict vdth the substant-
ive Mahratta States. Already had it so developed itself.
The Peishwah and the Nagpore Rajah had thrown off the
mask J and Holkar, or those who guided his councils — for
the Prince himself was a boy — had been for some time
waiting for a favourable opportunity to cast in their lot
with the confederates. Military domination had taken the
place of settled government. The Army were in arrears of
pay, the Treasury was empty, and as the Peishwah had be-
guiled them with promises of money, they were eager to

286 S/ie JOHN MALCOLM, [1817.

take up arms on his side. Before the end of November,
Holkar's troops had set out to form a junction with Badjee
Rao's Army. Early in the following month intelligence of
this movement. reached Malcolm, and then, desisting from
the pursuit of Cheetoo,* he turned his thoughts towards
Holkar's camp. Commiserating the condition of the boy-
Prince, who was little more than a name in tlie Durbar, he
endeavoured to convince the evil advisers who were leading
the Rajah astray, that- they were rushing headlong to their
ruin 3 but he felt that negotiation would fail, for they were
too far committed to draw back. This was very soon ap-
parent. Malcolm had pushed forward with his division to
join the main body of the Army of the Deccan under Sir
Thomas Hislop, and on the 12th of Decem-ber he had form-
e<f a junction with Ijis chief. The Mahrattas, anxious to gain
time, sent envoys to the British camp, ahd a week was spent
in fruitless endeavours to arrest the impending conflict.
When, at last — nothing accomplished — the Mahratta envoys
were dismissed, it was felt by both armies that in a day or
two a great battle would be fought. And it was so. On
the morning of the 21st of December the two armies were
face to face with each other near Mehidpore. The enemy
were strongly posted on the other side of the Sepree river.
Eager to attack them without delay, Malcolm solicited Sir
Thomas Hislop to give him the command of the two lead-
ing brigades, and to suffer him to cross the river and beat
up the Mahratta camp.

The opportunity, which he had longed for during so

♦ Cheetoo afterwards fled into the jungle, and was believed to
have been eaten up by a tiger.

iSry.] THE BATTLE OF MEHIDPORE, 1:87

many years, was now palpably before him. He was eager
to distinguish himself in battle 5 and the hour had come for
him to clutch the coveted prize. H« was not a man to
waste any time about it. Perhaps the talk which he had
had with the Duke of Wellington, after Waterloo, had
convinced him that whatever military historians may write
about scientific dispositions in accordance with the art of
war, ' hard pounding ' is, after all, that which most fre-
quently leads to victory. He went straightforward at the
enemy with a cheer, which was responded to along the line.
In vain did Colonel Scott, riding up beside him, implore
the General ' not to lose an age of discipHne at such a time.'
He only answered, ' Let us all be composed 3 ' and continued
his march right on to the Mahratta batteries. Europeans
and Natives alike advanced with unflinching gallantry. So
eager were the Sepoys for the affray, that when Malcolm,
seeing that a party of them were wasting their fire, cried
out, in their own language, * I think, my boys, we had
better give them the cold steel,* they answered with a cheer,
* Yes, your honour, the cold steel is best,' and pressed for-
ward to meet the enemy at the point of the bayonet. The
military historians of the war have told in detail how the
river was crossed in the face of the Mahratta batteries, and
how the battle of Mehidpore was fought and won by Mal-
colm's division of the Army of the Deccan. But it may be
told here, that throughout the engagement his bearing was
eminently characteristic of the man. He went at the enemy
as a cool but eager sportsman would go at his big game.
His irrepressible enthusiasm could not beheld in due restraint.
He was often, therefore, to be seen in the front of the battle

a3p 5/i? JOHN MALCOLM, [18J7.

— often where strict discipline forbade the commanding Gren-
eral to be. The officers of his Staff were often alarmed for
his safety, but he had never one thought for himself. As
he was riding eagerly forward, in the face of the Mahratta
batteries, he exclaimed, * A man may get a red riband out
of this.* ' I hope in God,' returned Caulfield, who rode
beside him, ' we may get you out of this — safe.' At another
time, to rectify some error in the advancing line, he rode so
far forward that he was in danger of being shot by his own
men. His native aide-de-camp, Syud Ibrahim, rode up to
Captain Borthwick, and cried, ' Look at the General. He
is in front of our men, who are firing ! For God's sake
bring him back ! ' And Borthwick rode on to save his chief,
who returned when he had done his work. His personal
courage, indeed, was of the highest order 3 and there was
always on great ocassions an irrepressible enthusiasm in him
which was, perhaps, a little more impetuous than sound
judgment would approve.

There is nothing dearer to the heart of a soldier, who
has done his duty well, than the thought of ' what will be
said at home 5 ' and in Malcolm this good home-feeling
was especially strong. He thought, after the battle, of his
wife and children, and all his dear friends in Eskdale. To
Lady Malcolm he wrote from Mehidpore, saying : * On the
20th, at night, I thought of you and the little ones. On
the 2 1 St, if ever you came across my mind, it was only how
to prove myself worthy of you j but this even, I must con-
fess, was only for a moment, for I was wholly absorbed in
the scene and in my duty. You will see by the Gazette
account, and by my report of the attack of which I had

i8i7.] ^^-^ ^-4 TTLE OF MBHIDPORE, 289

charge (a copy of which accompanies this), what my task
was. I ascended the bank of the river with proud feelings.
I never before had such a chance of fair fame as a soldier ^
and if the countenances of white and black in this gallant
army are to be trusted, I did not lose the opportunity
afforded me. Josiah Stewart, who was with me all the
day, and who is a first-rate fellow, and as calm in battle as
at his dinner, has written an account, he tells me, home.
He has also sent one to Macdonald.* I have no leisure to
write, being occupied with a hundred arrangements j but
you need have few more alarms, Charlotte. We have
taken seventy pieces of cannon, killed and wounded between
three and four thousand, and dispersed all their infantry.
Their cavalry may give trouble, but there is comparatively
no danger with these fellows. I hope to proceed in person
to-night with the cavahy, as I hear they are within fifty
miles, quite broken down and broken-hearted.' In another
letter he wrote : ' I send this because there are Eskdale
names in it, whose friends will be gratified that they were
with me. Josiah Stewart is again in high political employ,
and will get on famously. Tell Sandy Borthwick that his
brother is proper stuff, and that I will do my best for him.
Young Laurie is a fine young man \ he has now a staiF
situation, and I will endeavour to find him a permanent
one. ... I have no taste for grandeur, and I affect none j
but I am not insensible to the satisfaction of having had an
honest share in a war that better deserves the name of holy
th/an any that was ever waged) for its sole object has been

* Lady Malcolm's brother-in-law; afterwards Sir John Mac-
donald, Envoy to Persia.

VOL. I. 19

290 S/J^ JOHN MALCOLM, [1817— iSi8.

to destroy cruel and lawless freebooters, who annually
ravaged all the settled country in this vicinity, and com-
mitted the most merciless and horrid acts of barbarity on
the inhabitants.* *

Sir John Malcolm was one of those soldier-statesmen of
the first class, whose vocation it was to pass rapidly from the
command of an army to the negotiation of a treaty, and to
be equally at home in camp and in council. The power of
Holkar in the field was now completely broken 5 there was
nothing left for him but to sue for terms. The Mahratta
envoys again appeared in the British camp 3 but this time
with humbled tone and modest demeanour. The game was
now in Malcolm's own hands, and he played it out with a
wise moderation, securing all the objects which the British
Government had in view without unduly weakening the
power of Holkar.t The youth and helplessness of the

* In this letter also there is a characteristic passage in reference
to Malcolm's sporting pursuits : * I long, my dear Nancy, to be at
home again. I have just returned from shooting and hunting all the
morning. I had seven or eight fine Arabians to ride, fifty people to
beat for game, and all appendages of rank. But I would ten times
sooner have been stumping over the moors, with Jemmie Little cut-
ting jokes on Parson Somerville's shooting-jacket.*

t Malcolm thus described the arrangement in a letter to John
Adam : * The terms proposed were the confirmation of the engage-
ments with Ameer Khan ; the cession to the Company of the clainas
of Holkar's government upon the Rajpoot States ; the cession to
Zalem Singh, Rajah of Kotah, of four districts formerly rented by
him ; the confirmation under the guarantee of the Company of his
jaidady amounting to nearly four lakhs of rupees per annum, to
Guffoor Khan and his heirsj on the condition of his maintaining a
quota of horse ; the cession of the tribute of Narsinghur ; the cession

i8t8.] MULHAR RAO HOLKAR. 29,

young Maharajah himself, in the kindly estimation of such
a man as Malcolm, entitled him to our especial forbearance.
Lord Minto had told Malcolm that he ought not to be sent
to negotiate with a Prince more than twelve years old j so
he had now one of the right age on whom to exercise his
rare powers of engaging the confidence and affection of the
young. ' I have been lately with my young ward, Mulhar
Rao Holkar,' he wrote at the end of February, ' and cer-
tainly the change of a few weeks is wonderful. The
fellows that I was hunting like wild beasts are all now
tame, and combine in declaring that I am their only friend.
All the chiefs of Holkar are in good humour. The boy
himself is at present delighted with a small elephant (which
he lost, and I recovered and sent him), that dances like a
dancing-girl, and a little Pegu pony, of which I made him
a present, and which ambles at a great rate. I went out to
hunt with him a few days ago, and we had great fiin. The
little fellow, though only eleven years of age, rides beauti-
fully. He mounted a tall bay horse, very fairly broken,
and taking a blunt spear nine feet in length, tilted with two
or three others in very superior style, wheeling, charging,
and using his spear as well as the rest of them. He ex-
pressed grief at my going away, as he discovered that I was
very fond of play and hunting.' *

to the Company of all Holkar^s possessions within and to the south
of the Southpoora range of hills, including Candeish, Ambu Ellora,
and all his other possessions in that quarter.'

* In another letter we have an equally pleasant glimpse of Mal-
colm's geniality in his relations, at this time, with the officers of the
British Army : * I wish we had you here,' he wrote to his wife, * 1
would show you that I have realized all my plans of making men

292 S//^ JOHN MALCOLM, [x8x8i

But this young boy-Prince, whom, with a fine and
most benignant tact, he had thus conciliated, was not the
only native ruler with whom at that time his duty brought
him into personal relations. Badjee Rao, the Peishwah,
had by this time thrown off the mask j he had forfeited his
kingdom by his treachery and hostility to the British Gro-
vernment, and nothing remained but to bring him to such
terms as might at once be mercifiil to him, and advanta-
geous to the British Government.* This business — one of
great difficulty and delicacy — devolved upon Sir John
Malcolm. Perhaps no other man could have brought the
Peishwah to terms at all. By skilful negotiation, aided
much by his own personal influence, he brought the
Mahratta Prince at last to consent to an arrangement
by which he was to become for ever a pensioner of the
British Government. The terms, by the oflfer of which
Malcolm induced the Peishwah to surrender himself and
all his pretensions, were said by many at the time to have
been over-liberal. It was stipulated that eight lakhs of
rupees (or <^8o,ooo) should be paid to Badjee Rao for the
remainder of his life.t It may be doubted whether a less

work, and fight, and do everything men ought to do, and yet be
happy and make no complaints. The Pindarrees have gone from this
quarter. I do nothing on the march but shoot and hunt. A Bengal
corps came near me four days ago. Several officers came to see me ;
among others, a son of Robert Bums — a very fine young man. We
had a grand evening, and I made him sing his father's songs. He
has a modest but serious pride of being the son of the bard of his
country, which quite delighted me.'

* This story is briefly told in the succeeding Memoir of Mount-
stuart Elphinstone.

t Some ingenious writers, of high reputation, have recently taken

i8i8.] BADJEE RAaS STIPEND, 29J

• _— ^^^^^^.— ^— ^— — — ^— — ^— »— —

sum would have brought him into our camp, and the sur«
render of the Peishwah was necessary to the termination of
the war. On the whole, viewed with reference to ulterior
financial considerations, I am inclined to think that the
arrangement was an economical one. At all events, Mal-
colm had much to say in its defence. ' I fear Lord
Hastmgs,* he wrote to the Duke of Wellington, ' thinks I
have given Badjee Rao better terms than he was entitled to ;
but this is not the opinion of Elphinstone, Munro, Ochter-
lony, and others who are on the scene ; nor do I think the
Governor-General will continue to think so when he receives
all the details. You will, I am sure, be convinced that it
would have been .mpossible to have obtained his submis-
sion on other terms, and the object of terminating the war
was enough to justify all I have 'done, independent of the
consideration connected with our own dignity, and with
that regard we were bound on such an occasion to show to
the feelings of his adherents, and to the prejudices of the
natives of India.' To Thomas Munro he wrote a few days
afterwards : ' You were right in your guess about my rea-
son for thinking you sackt (harsh). Your sentiments upon

great pains to show that the pension granted at that time to the Peish-
wah was only a life-pension. And this has been put forth apparendy
in answer to something which was supposed to have been written by
me in another work. But I never hinted in any way, directly or in-
directly, that the adopted son of the ex-Peishwah had the least right
to succeed to the stipendiary provision secured for him by Sir John
Malcolm. I do not suppose that anybody knew better than myself
the exact terms of the arrangement of 181 8 ; but I thought it might
have been sound policy to treat Dundhoo Punt Nana Sahib with a
little more gratuitous consideration than he received from Lord Dal-
housie.

294 S//^ JOHN MALCOLM, [1818.

my settlement with Badjee Rao were quite a cordial. I
have not been so happy in this case as to anticipate the
wishes of tlie Governor-Gteneral. He expected Badjee Rao
would get no such terms 5 that his distress would force him
to submit on any conditions j and that his enormities de^
prived him of all right either to princely treatment or
princely pension. I think the Lord will, when he hears
all, regret the precipitation with which he formed his
judgment. In the first place, he will find that, in spite of
the report made by every commanding officer, who ever
touched Badjee Rao, that he had destroyed him, that the
latter was not destroyed, but had about six thousand good
horse and ^^t. thousand infantry, and the gates of Asseer
wide open, all his property sent in there, and half hjs coun-
cillors praying him to follow it, while Jeswunt Rao Lar
was positively ambitious of being a martyr in the cause of
the Mahratta Sovereign 5 add to this the impossibility of^
besieging Asseer till after the rains — the difficulty of even
half blockading it, and the agitated state of the country —
and then let the Lord pronounce the article I purchased
was worth the price I paid 5 and he will find it proved I
could not get it cheaper. There are, however, other grounds
which I can never abandon, that recommend this course
on the ground of policy — our own dignity, considerations
for the feelings of Badjee Rao*s adherents, and for the pre-
judices of the natives of India. We exist on impression 5
and on occasions like this, where all are anxious spectators,
we must play our part well, or we should be hissed. I
have your opinion in my favour 3 I have Ochterlony's, El-
phinstone's, Jenkins's, and many minor men's 3 and I think

r8i8.] SETTLEMENT OF CENTRAL INDIA. 295

I shall yet force an assent from head-quarters. But they
foolishly enough committed themselves, knowing, as they
stated at the time, their instructions would be too late j they
did not think any circumstances would enable him to have
more than two lakhs, and he was to be watched, restrained,
and I know not what. My system is- all opposite; I am
either for the main-guard, or a confidence that gives you a
chance at least of the mind, the only other security except
the body. You shall have a short narration of my proceed-
ings. I grieve for yoiu* decay of vision, and none of your
arguments will persuade me it is not at this moment a
public misfortune 5 but you should not remain a moment
longer than you can help in India, and give up labour ; the
warning is too serious.*

This engagement was made in June, 18 18. There were
afterwards some further operations in the field, including
the reduction of the fortress of Asseerghiu", in which Mal-
colm was concerned ; but the war was virtually at an end.
And now came something more difiicult than the conquest
of Mahratta armies — the reduction to order and prosperity
of a country long given up to anarchy and confusion. To
no man could this be intrusted more confidently than to
Malcolm, because no one was less Hkely to overdo the
work which lay before him. He had not that passion for
change which in those, and still more in later, days afflicted
some of our administrators in newly-acquired countries, and
of whom truly it might be said that their settlements were
so called because everything was unsettled by them. ' The
fault I find with the younger politicians,' he wrote to Mr
Elphinstone, ' is not so much that they despise the natives

296 SIR JOHN MALCOLM, |x8x8

aud native governments, as that they are impatient of abuses
and too eager for reform. I do not think that they know
so well as we old ones what a valuable gentleman Time is j
how much better work is done, when it does itself, than
when done by the best of us.'

Upon this principle Malcolm acted. He trusted to
Time, and in the mean while did all that he could by his
own personal influence to ' keep people in good humour,*
and to inspire them with confidence. His success was
great 3 and the secrets of that success were the large-hearted
sympathy and the personal accessibility of the man. He
had a word for every one, high and low. He did his own
work by the force of his own individual character, and
every one was satisfied with his reception, even though his
claims were disallowed. ' I wish I had you here for a
week,' he wrote to one of his oldest friends, ' to show you my
nabobs, rajahs, Bheel chiefs, potails, and ryots. My room
is a thoroughfare from morning to night. No moonshees^
dewans, dubashes, or even chobdars,* but ch6,r derwaxah
kolah (four doors open), that the inhabitants of these
countries may learn what our principles are at the foimtain-
head. My success has been great, beyond even my own
expectations 3 but the labour of public duty in the way I
take it is more than any man can bear, and I believe that
I shall be grateful to the Directors for relieving me from a
life that no human being that sees how it is passed can
envy. Of the result of my eflforts I wiU not speak. You
will hear from others that have lately quitted this scene.
Suffice it to say, that from the highest ruler to the lowest
* Native officials of different grades.

i8i8. SETTLEMENT OF CENTRAL INDIA, 297

robber, from the palace in the city to the shed in the deep-
est recess of the mountain forest, your friend Malcolm
Sahib is a welcome and a familiar guest, and is as much
pleased, thank Grod, with firing arrows and eating roots
with the latter, as at the fine durbars and sumptuous feasts
of the former/ To another friend (Mr Butterworth
Bayley) he wrote : ' I wish you and some other friends at
Calcutta could take a view, for one week, of my occupa-
tions. They are at least curious. No business, however
urgent, and no meal, however hungry I am, is allowed to
prevent the instant access of any human being, however
humble. He is heard and answered, either at the mo-
ment or at an hour appointed by myself. First impressions
are of too much importance to be hazarded by leaving ap-
plications to the common routine of moonshees, mootasor-
dees, jemadars, chobdars, and hurkarahs. I employ all
these 5 but they step aside when any one, from a rajah to a
ryot, pronounces my name, with the expression of a wish
to see me either from a motive of respect, curiosity, or
business.* About the same time I find an officer on Sir
John Malcolm's staff writing confidentially to a friend :
* Nobody that I ever saw or heard of can get over the
same quantity of business in the same quantity of time
that he does, and his reputation stands so very high with
the natives, that his being personally concerned in any ar-
rangements goes further in satisfying them than I believe
would the interference of any other man upon earth.
When we crossed the Nerbuddah in 181 7, the state of
Malwah was scarcely to be described. It was a country
ivithout government, a state without revenue, an army

298 S/J^ JOHN MALCOLM. [1818— 1819.

without pay j consequently, a peasantry without protection
from the villanies of the troops of their own Sovereign, or
the depredators who chose to plunder them j and of these
last the coimtry was full. We now see around us the

effects of oiu" late operations A state, though at

present reduced in respect of revenue, yet respectable 3 that
revenue increasing, and perhaps the finest country in India
again wearing the face of cheerful industry 3 the inhabit-
ants, assured of protection, returning to their villages and
looking forward with confidence to better times. . . . This
is Sir John's work, and a most glorious work it has been.
His is a noble character, and such as his are required to
keep us now on the high ground on which, thank God, we

stand in India I believe, though it is possible that

he may be equalled in some points, that in public virtue
and useful talent he cannot be excelled by any public serv-
ant of any Government at this time existing 5 and that
for whatever time his fame may last in Europe, Malcolm
Sahib will be remembered in Malwah as long as regular
government exists, of which he has again laid the founda-
tion.' And high as was this praise, it was perfectly true j
and the prediction was amply fulfilled. The names of
Malcolm and Malwah have never since been disunited.

And all through the year 18 19, Malcolm worked on
bravely, and energetically, and with his whole heart, loving
his work, and yet not without certain promptings of ambi-
tion, which made him look to the something beyond which
is the grand stimulus to all exertion in India — ^whether the
thing coveted be a brigade-majorship, a deputy magistracy,
or the government of a Presidency. The government of

i8i9.] DISAPPOINTMENT. 299

Bombay was about to become vacant^ and Malcolm had
been encouraged to hope that it would be conferred upon
him > but it was given to Mr Mountstuart Elphinstone, hi*
junior in the service by many years, and he regarded such a
nomination as an unjust supersession of his rightful claims.
* No man/ he wrote to his brother Pulteny, ' could have
more merit than Elphinstone 5 but I stood on groimd that
should have defended my fair and encouraged views of
honourable ambition from supersession by any man. It is
not for me to blazon my services 5 but they have been hon-
est. Some persons write me that the government of Madras
is intended. This, I am assured, is not the case y nor* do I
look for anything that can compensate the disappointment.
I should not be surprised at a pension being granted, but I
should certainly feel little gratification or gratitude from it,
if it came, as ii would, from the efforts of those who had
failed me in pursuit of a better object.*

He had scarcely recovered from this blow, when an-
other fell upon him. He had said that he did not expect
to be appointed to the Madras government, because objec-
tions had been raised on the score of his being a soldier —
and a soldier, too, of that Presidency, But when the post
fell vacant, his old fi*iend. Sir Thomas Munro, who was also
a Madras officer, was nominated Grovernor of that Presi-
dency. It was not strange that this disquieted him greatly.
' I could not get Bombay,* he wrote to Mr Elphinstone,
' because I was not a civil servant.* The Duke of Wel-

* On this subject of his alleged want of acquaintance with civil
duties^ he wrote, with justifiaUe pride : * Has not my life — ^though I
never acted as a judge or coltector — ^been more given to civil than to

$00 S/H JOHN MALCOLM, FiSi©.

lington, when he asked for Madras for me, was told that I
could not have that Presidency because I was a Company's
servant. In my excellent friend Thomas Munro they have
both a soldier and a merchant*s son (as we Eastern Knights
of the Bath were called by the Mwrning Chronicle), Now.,
though I will no more quarrel with Mimro's nomination
than I did with yours — though I congratulate India on such
appointments, I am not, and never will be, reconciled to
being so completely thrown out of the question as I have
been, particularly on this last occasion.*

Malcolm attributed his failures greatly to the opposition
of Charles Grant, 'an able leading Director,* as he said.
But I believe that this was a mistake. Mr Grant wrote,
in letters before me, that although he had disapproved of
some of Lord Wellesley's measures, he greatly admired the
ability and integrity of many of his chief officers, and was
well disposed to trust them; and I believe that he was utterly
incapable of any such prejudice and narrow-mindedness,
as systematic opposition to the advancement in the public

military duties ? Has not the whole government, in all its parts,
been my constant study ? And what but the knowledge I have gained
and put in practice could have brought the whole of this quarter to
* the state it is now in ? Has not my life been given to all the details
of revenue settlements and judicial proceedings, Native as well as
European modes of administering justice, and the most minute investi-
gation of everything relating to the rules and institutions, great and
small, of this and neighbouring countries ? They shall, ere long, see
all this in a Report, which will enable me to ask my friends whether
I am, or I am not, fit for a civil government. But let them in the
mean while take asi no slight evidence the condition of these countiies,
and then ask how much of this remarkable work has been effected by
force.*

i8i9.] l-OSS OF THE MADRAS GOVERNMEMT. 301

service of such a man as John Malcolm would have indicated.
The fact is, that there were three old servants of the Com-
pany, very nearly of the same standing, with very nearly
equal capacity for government and administration. There
were essential points of difference between them, and no one
in all respects surpassed the other j so that it is hard to say
to whom the palm of general superiority should be assigned
by the biographer or the historian. Any accident, therefore,
might have determined the preference to be given by the
home authorities to one candidate or the other. And, per-
haps, they were influenced, in some degree, by the feeling
that Sir John Malcolm could not well be spared from Central
India, and that there was a probability of a separate Lieu-
tenant-Governorship being established in that part of the
country, with Malcolm at its head. It must have been a
heavy blow to one of Malcolm's aspiring nature j but he
bore it with characteristic manliness and cheerfulness, feeling
all the time that it was but a postponement of his reward^ -
and that if he could not command success he would deserve
it.*

* There is no doubt that Malcolm inwardly felt his supersession
very bitterly, though he had a very high opinion of the deserts of both
Elphinstone and M unro, and never expressed himself with any unbe-
coming warmth. * I have,* he wrote to Captain Tod, afterwards the
historian of Rajpootana, * through a breach of promise in rulers, the
intrigues of opponents, and the defection of friends, seen a person
who was not only my junior by twelve years in the political hne, but
had been under me (Mr Elphinstone), supersede my fair and recog-
nized claims to a government. I have seen another, whose pre-
tensions, though great, were placed by the Indian Minister below
mine, raised to a government for which I was declared iH)t eligible.
All my friends are disappointed ; but I am neither in a rage nor

3oa SIR JOHN MALCOLM. [1819.

He was not one, as I have before said, to be long down-
cast, or to hug his disappointments with unwise tenacity 3
80 we soon find him writing again in the old strain of cheer-
fulness, thankful for the many blessings he enjoyed. * Let
us learn,* he wrote to his wife, 'in the first place, to be
grateful for the extraordinary good fortune we enjoy. Let
us habituate ourselves to look down as well as to look up 5
and then we shall escape many a torturing reflection. Wheu
occurrences like these, which have recently happened, cross
my path of ambition, I pause for a moment j but a recol-
lection of their caases, of the rank I have attained, of the
resources I possess to enable me to go higher should I still
desire it, of my admirable wife, my delightful children, my
fair fortune, and, what is more, my fair fame, comes upon
my mind, and tells me that with all these crosses and jostles
I am still among the most fortunate of mankind, and that
it is unreasonable, if not impious, to complain. All this I
feel consistent with a steady view of my interests in life 5
and though anger cannot blind my reason, I am not insensible
to passing events, nor to the comparative claim upon my
regard of real and pretended friends.* Moreover, there
were palpably before him, at this time, the good fruits of
his great work in Malwah. Most successfully had he
laboured, and there was ample reward to his heart in the
altered appearance of the country. He looked with pride
at the many evidences of returning prosperity that surrounded

disappointed. Two most able men, wjio were behind me, have,
by accident (my self-love persuades me), shot ahead, but the race is
not over. The day's work is not done. Besides, how many liave I
beater ? *

i8i9.] IMPROVEMENTS IN MALWAH, 303

him, and learnt with the purest sensations of delight that
the blessings of the people attended him. ' The old ruins
of this place/ he wrote from Mehidpore, ' and the celebrated
city of Maidoo, have for more than a century been shared
by tigers and B heels, more destructive than the tigers in
their ravages. The tigers I shoot j the Bheels are my friends,
and now serve in a corps I have raised to cultivate lands.
I have made and am making roads in every direction. A
great Fair at a holy place which has not been visited for
seventy years, was a week ago visited by thirty thousand
people. I gave guards at the place and<:leared the road 5 and
I confess that I was a little sensible to the flattery of the poor
creatures making the air ring with * Jy, Malcolm, jy ! '
(Success to Malcolm), &c. &c. This, and the discovery a
few days ago, that among the Bheel ladies, tying a string
upon the right arm of their children whilst the priest pro-
nounced the name of Malcolm three times, was a sovereign
cure for a fever, are proofs at least of my having a good
name among these wild mountaineers, which will do me
as much and more good than one in Leadenhall-street.* *

The establishment of the new Lieutenant-Governorship,
which Malcolm had always warmly advocated, never took
practical shape in his time; and so, as the year 1821 ad-
vanced, he determined to rejoin his family in England, with

* There was no exaggeration in this picture. Some years after-
wards, when Bishop Heber travelled through Central India, he found
everywhere indications of the affectionate remembrance in which
Malcolm and his good deeds were held by the people of the country.
The name of Malcolm on an amulet was regarded as a charm to pro-
tect the wearer of it against the powers of evil.

304 S//? JOHN MALCOLM, [i8ai

no intention of returning to Indian work, unless he could
return as Grovernor of a Presidency. ' My Indian marches,*
he wrote to his wife, on the ist of September, from Bom-
bay, ' are, I trust, over for ever. I arrived here a few hours
ago, after a very quick journey from Poonah. I am uncom-
monly well — better than I have been for many months.
Elphinstone has given up Malabar Point to me — a most
delightful residence, almost in the sea.* His reception at
Bombay was of a most enthusiastic character. A grand
entertainment was given to him by the inhabitants of the
Presidency 5 and he took his leave of India, not, however,
for the last time, amidst universal demonstrations of*<*e-
spect.*

He went to England by the then unfamiliar route of
Egypt, where he was received with all possible courtesy and
hospitality by Mehemet Ali. From Alexandria he sailed
to the Ionian Isles, where Sir Thomas Maitland and Sir
Frederick Adams vied with each other in kindness and at-
tention to him. From Corfu he sailed to Valetta, proceeded
thence to Naples, visited Herculaneum and Pompeii, ex-
plored Vesuvius, and afterwards pushed on to Rome.
Thence he posted to Florence, Bologna, Milan, and, skirt-
ing Lago Maggiore, presently crossed the Simplon, and,
proceeding through Switzerland and France, reached Lon-

* Some references to this entertainment are given in a subsequent
Memoir of Sir Alexander Bumes, whose juvenile ambition was fired
by the sight of all the honours heaped upon one who had started firom
as small a beginning as himself.

I832--34* liBTURN TO EUROPE. 305

don at the end of April, 1822. It was no small delight to
him to rejoin his wife and children. They had a house in
London and a cottage in Kent 5 but the latter was too
small for the family, so he looked about for another country
residence, and found one upon the borders of Hertfordshire,
twenty-five miles from town, on the road to Cambridge,
not far from the town of Sawbridgeworth, It was known
by the name of Hyde Hall j and there, after a time, Mal-
colm pitched his tent — and a very hospitable tent it was, al-
most as much open, on all its four sides, as that other tent
in Central India. There he entertained many visitors from
Cambridge, who still cherish the recollection of those days
as among the happiest of their lives. Among them, I may
cite the honoured names of Whewell, Sedgwick, and Hare,
who ever looked back to the days which they spent at
Hyde Hall as among the most joyous of their lives.*

• Julius Hare has left behind him, scattered over his writings,
some tender records of his happy associations with Malcolm. In
one passage, speaking of Hyde Hall, he says : ' The house in which
above all others where I have ever been an inmate, the life and
the spirit and the joy of conversation have been the most intense, is a
house in which I hardly ever heard an evil word uttered against any
one. The genial heart of cordial sympathy with which its illustrious
master sought out the good side in every person and everything, and
which has found an inadequate expression in his delightful Sketches
of Persia^ seemed to communicate itself to all the members of his
family, and operated as a charm even upon his visitors.' And I have
heard all this, in language equally enthusiastic, from the lips of
Whewell and Sedgwick. It was through Hare that Malcolm became
acquainted with those two large-brained men, both of whom after-
wards came to love him very dearly for his own sake. I wish I
could recall the very words in which they dwelt upon the many
noble and gentle qualities of the Indian soldier, especially on that

VOL, I. 20

3o6 S/Ji JOHN MALCOLM. [1804.

But happy as he was at . Hyde Hall, he had been too
much accustomed to locomotion all his life to remain long
m the same place ; so he paid a visit to Ireland^ where his
old friend Lord Wellesley, then Lord-Lieutenant, welcomed
him with the cordiality of past times. Those were days of
much misery and much trouble in that country, and Mal-
colm could not. help thinking sometimes that his Central
Indian sjrstem might be advantageously applied to the re-
clamation of the unhappy people of Ireland. He wrote a
long letter to the Duke of Wellington on the subject, in
the course of which he said : ' In some of the southern
counties nothing short of the exercise of arbitrary power
over the proprietors and occupants of the soil, as well as the
disturbers of the peace, could effect a speedy settlement of
these counties. I wish I had them, as I had some worse
counties in Malwah, and that I could act without fear of
the Parliament, the Lord Chief Justice, and the hangman,
and set about putting the zemindars and ryots to rights.*
Soon afterwards he set out on an excursion to Scotland,
where he visited his kinsfolk at Burnfoot, and many other
friends and friends' friends, and delightedly renewed his in-
timacy with Walter Scott, who by that time had built up
his lordly castle on the banks of the Tweed. ' I was two
days at Abbotsford,' Malcolm wrote to one of his daugh-

wonderful sunny-heartedness that made everything bright and
joyous around him. I remember how the accomplished Master of
Trinity — ^whose voice is now still for ever — narrated to me, with
enthusiasm, the incidents of one delightful evening, when Malcolm
having carried down Schlegel to Cambridge, introduced him fo
Whewell and Sedgwick in Hare's rooms ; and there was such talk as
is not often heard even in Trinity.

i824— as-] AT HOME AND ABROAD. 307

ters, 'and most delighted was my friend Sir Walter to see
me. We walked together over all his estate, and looked
at all his fine castle. We had a large party and many a
tale, and Sir Walter declares that I beat him in legends.
But his is the wizard's art of giving them the shape that
delights the world.' From Abbotsford he went to Minto,
on a visit to another of the old Govemors-Greneral, under
whom he had served j and in the following year he went,
imder the special tutelage of the Duke of Northumberland,
our Ambassador-Extraordinary, to see Charles X. crowned
King of France in the Cathedral of Rheims. During this
visit to the Continent, Malcolm enjoyed much pleasant and
instructive conversation with many distinguished personages,
including the King, who paid him marked attention. The
men in whose society he took most delight were Humboldt
and Soult, and he was as much at home with the one as
with the other.

Varying his home pleasures with excursions of this
description, and finding abundant occupation among his
books and papers, the stream of life flowed on very tran-
quilly 3 but his ambition had not been laid to rest. If he
had sought merely the gratification of his personal vanity, he
might, perhaps, have found more to appease it in literary
success than in fiirther service as an Indian administrator or
diplomatist. It was chiefly as the Historian of Persia that
he had been courted and honoured in Continental Europe,
and even in the colder atmosphere of England he had not
been without reward of this kind. He had more than one
literary project in his mind at that time, and his fHends
were constantly stimulating him to new exertions in the

3o8 S/jR JOHN MALCOLM, [x

pleasant fields of scholarly enterprise. He was writing
those delightfU Sketches of Persia, which have been^ per-
haps^ more extensively read and more highly appreciated
than any of his more elaborate works 5 he was preparing for
the general public a revised edition of his Report on Mai-
wah,* and he was collecting materials for his Life of Lord
Clive. But the desires of a man of his active habits and
experiences were not to be thus appeased. Moreover, he
had for many years been looking steadily fcxw^ard at an
object which he had not attained, though he had seen
others starting from the same point attain it, and was reso-
lute not to retire from the contest with the stamp of failure
on his career. Some proud and sensitive natures would
have shrunk from all further competition 5 they would
have wrapped themselves in a dignified reserve, and would
have waited for the summons of their country. There is,
perhaps, no one respect in which men of noble natures
differ more fi-om each other than in the manner in which
they assert or refuse to assert their just claims to promotion
or distinction. All this is as essentially part of themselves
as the length of their limbs or the tone of their voices. It
would have been impossible for such a man as Sir John
Malcolm, who always wore his heart upon his sleeve, who
was a great talker, and altogether a robust and rather
boisterous person, to have exhibited a scrupulous and
delicate reserve on the subject of his public services and
his just pretensions to reward. Besides, as I have before
said, he looked upon any distinction that was conferred
upon him as an evidence of that just recognition, for which

I * Now known as Malcolm's ' Central India.'

1824—25.] PURSUIT OF FURTHER DISTINCTION. 309

— - .

he had so long been contending, of the claims of the great
Service to which he was proud of being attached. How
strongly he felt this, how great and generous was his esprit
de corps, may be gathered from the fact that his services in
Central India, including his generalship at Mehidpore, had
placed within his reach either a Baronetcy or the Grand
Cross of the Bath. Most men would have chosen the
former ; but it happened that the first class of the Bath had
never been conferred on a Company's officer, and Malcolm
was eager, therefore, to make a precedent for his comrades.
He had elected to receive the Grand Cross, although it
was necessary that he should wait for it until he had
attained the rank of a (Jeneral Officer.* The love of the
Service, which thus manifested itself, spoke out also in his
eagerness to obtain the government of one of the Presi-
dencies— and eventually, perhaps, the Grovemor-General-
ship— of India.

So Malcolm did not desist from his pursuit of a dis-
tinction which he knew to be his due. Disappointed still,
he was still deceived by new opportunities and promises,
but he never flung up the game in despair. On the death
of Sir Thomas Munro, the government had been conferred
on Mr Hugh Elliot, a brother of Lord Mintoj and now,
on his retirement, Malcolm thought that his own claims
might be fairly asserted. But the Government had
favoured the pretensions of Mr Lushington, a member of
the Madras Civil Service ; the ostensible objection to Sir
John Malcolm being that his wife's father, then Sir
Alexander Campbell, was Commander-in-Chief of that

* He was only Brigadier-General at Mehidpore.

3IO S/H JOHN MALCOLM. [1824—25.

Presidency. The Duke of Wellington never ceased to
push the claims of his friend so long as he could do so with
advantage to the claimant. But he wrote to Sir John
Malcolm^ saying : * I desired you yesterday not to be too
sanguine. I had conversations with the President of the
Board of Control and others, after I wrote to you yesterday,
jfrom which I judge that there is no chance of your attain-
ing your object. I believe that the Court object to a
soldier being a civil governor \ to the son-in-law being the
Grovemor where the father-in-law is Commander-in-Chief;
and even to a servant of a particular establishment being
the Governor. I think there is a disposition to bring you
forward in the arrangement, but I doubt that the manner
would be agreeable to you. Upon all this I am but little
listened to. I am like the boy in the fable, who cried
" Wolf! *' so often, that nobody would credit him. I have
come forward so often to assert and support your claims,
that I am considered a party and an intruder in the case in
the decision to be taken.'

To this Malcolm sent a characteristic answer. He had
a mcH-e novel story to bring forward in illustration of his
case than that of the shepherd-boy and the wolf. ' I have
heard,' he said, * that objections have been given, at both
ends of the town, against my nomination in Madras, of
which the principal is my having a father-in-law at the
Presidency. If Bombay becomes the object, it would be
found out that I have a brother there ; and should I
ever aspire to Bengal, I should be rejected because I have
no connections at that place. But tfie meaning of the ob-
jections started on this occasion will be best explained by a

1824.] CORRESPONDENCE WITH WELLINGTON 311

Persian story : " A man wanted to borrow a horse^ but the
friend to whom he appHed answered, ' My horse is black.*
' I prefer that colour,' said the borrower. * But he has
large eyes.' ' I like them better than small ones.' * That
is an odd taste, but he has hair upon hijs body.' 'Oh, I see,
you are making excuses.' * I think that you might have
guessed that by the first reply.' " Now, I did guess it
from the first 5 but I will persevere to the last in my efforts
to mount myself.*

Strongly impressed with a sense of the emptiness of the
prize which his friend was pressing forward so anxiously to
obtain, the Duke of Wellington tried to persuade Malcolm
to abandon the thought of ftirther employment in India, to
enter Parliament, and to devote his remaining years to
England and English affairs. But Malcolm was not to
be persuaded to settle down contentedly at home \ so he
still pressed his claims upon the Grovernment, looking to the
Duke to support them. But the stubborn will of the latter^
who, without reference to the fitness of the selection made,
commended the detennination of Lord Liverpool to adhere
to his first resolution, and who conceived it to be his first
duty to support his ministerial chief, refused to yield to
Malcolm's soHcitations. ' I received yesterday,* he wrote,
' your letter of the ist. When I wrote you the first note
to which you refer, in which I begged you not to be too
sanguine, I was aware of the desire of Lord Liverpool to
promote Mr Lushington to one of the governments in In-
dia. I went to the Cabinet immediately afterwards, and I
there found not only that my former intelligence upon the
subject was confirmed, but that particular objections existed

31 J SIR JOHN MALCOLM, [1824—^5.

to your appointment to the office which you particularly
desired to fill. Of these objections I informed you, and I
told you what I found to be the fact, that I was not con-
sidered a fair judge upon such a question in a case in which
you were concerned, as I had taken the field so often and
upon every occasion in your favour. So the matter rested.
The question then comes before me in this light : there is
a vacancy in the Government of India, and Lord Liverpool
thinks proper to propose, not that Mr Lushington should
fill this vacancy, but that Mr Elphinstone, on whose pre-
tensions the Directors were likely to look favourably, should
be appointed to Fort St George, and that Mr Lushington
should succeed to the Grovernment of Bombay. In this de-
cision Lord Liverpool thinks proper to pass by your preten-
sions, and the opinions and wishes of myself and others in
their favour. But having thus decided, can I with honour
or with any advantage to you take part against Lord Liver-
pool ? Certainly not. In the contest between Lord Liver-
pool or the Grovemment on the one hand, and the Court of
Directors on the other, whatever may be my opinion or
wishes of, or in favour of, the individuals put forward by
the parties, I can take the side of the Government alone 5
and I certainly must and will (as it is my duty to do) en-
courage Lord Liverpool by every means in my power to
carry his object, and to consent to nothing unless his object
is carried. I am much concerned that his choice has not
fallen upon you. But, to tell you the truth, I suspect if it
had, he would not have been more successful in his negotia-
tions with the Directors than he has been in favour of Mr
Lushington. You are become popular in Leadenhall-street,

i8as.] CORRESPONDENCE WITH WELLINGTON 313

not because you deserve to be so, but because you happen
to be the fittest instrument at the moment to be thrown in
the face of the Grovernment, and to oppose them. But if
you had been proposed by the Government, then all the
reasons against your appointment would have been urged
as strongly as those in favour of it are at present. I told
you before, and I repeat it, you cannot succeed if Lord
Liverpool does his duty firmly as he ought. I shall regret
exceedingly if you and Mr Elphinstone should have the
King's negative put upon your appointments \ but I declare
positively that if I was in Lord Liverpool's place, knowing
both as I do, and appreciating as I have a right to do the
talents and fitness of both, I would recommend the King,
under the circumstances above stated, not to confirm the
appointment of either.'

This was a characteristic letter, but to Malcolm a very
discouraging one. Nothing more could be said — so another
chance was lost to him. Mr Lushington went to Madras \
and it almost seemed to Sir John Malcolm as though he
were under a ban, and that there was no further work for
him in the East. But it often happens that our blessings
come upon us when we least expect them — that in the
affairs of Hfe, it is the darkest hour that precedes the dawn.
It had not been part of Malcolm's philosophy to wait \ but
now he saw clearly the value of that great lesson of faith,
abiding the appointed time, which most men learn sooner
or later. That which he so much coveted came to him at
last. The government of Bombay was about to become
vacant by the retirement of Mr Elphinstone j and both the
King's Grovemment and the Court of Directors were of

314 S/I? JOHN MALCOLM. [i825--a6.

^^ •* — ■ — " — — _^_^_ ^

opinion that it would conduce greatly to the public interests
to appoint Sir John Malcolm to the post. The oiFer was
made and accepted. A grand farewell banquet was given
to him at the ' Albion * by the East India Company 5 and
both Mr Canning and the Duke of Wellington made im-
pressive speeches in honour of the guest of the evening. It
was then that the former^ whose great career was about so
soon and so suddenly to end^ delivered himself of those
memorable words : * There cannot be found in the history
of Europe, the existence of any monarchy, which, within a
given time, has produced so many men of the first talents
in civil and military life, as India has first trained for her-
self and then given to their native country.* Not less
worthy is the speech of the Duke of Wellington to be held
in remembrance : ' A nomination such as this,' he said,
' operates throughout the whole Indian service. The young-
est cadet sees in it an example he may imitate — a success
he may attain. The good which the country derives ftova
the excitement of such feelings is incalculable.* Nothing
more true 5 nothing more deserving of abiding remembrance.
When he had said it, the Duke continued : * It is now thirty
years since I formed an intimate friendship with Sir John
Malcolm. During that eventfiil period, there has been no
operation of consequence, no diplomatic measure, in which
my finend has not borne a conspicuous part. Alike distin-
guished by courage and by talent, the history of his life
during that period would be the history of the glory of his
country in India.* No words that were ever spoken would
have rewarded him so amply for all that he had done. He
went home that night happier than he had ever been before.

1827-] THE BOMBAY GOVERNMENT, 315

with the words sweeter than honey of one who was the
greatest man of the age and the dearest friend of his heart
still making music in his ears. When he awoke on the
following morning, those words came hack upon him with
renewed sweetness, and he wrote a letter to the Duke pour-
ing out in a few warm sentences the fulness of his gratitude
and joy.

On the 1st of November, 1827, Sir John Malcolm,
having arrived at Bombay a few days before, took the oaths
of office, and entered upon the government of that Presi-
dency.* It was by no means an eventful period of our
history ; and there were no great opportunities, therefore,
for Malcolm to display his capacity for government. It is
generally said that his administration of Bombay was dis-
tinguished more by his collision with the Supreme Court

* During his vojrage out, Malcolm employed his time chiefly in
the preparation of his LifeofClive. He fomid Mr EUphinstone still
at Bombay, and during the time that they were there together, they
talked as much about English literature as about Indian politics. * I
have been busy during the voj^age,' wrote Malcolm to Sir Charles
Metcalfe, ' with the Life of Lord CUve, all his papers, pubhc and
private, having recently been discovered and given to me. I have
finished about one thousand pages ; and Elphinstone^ who b fastidious
enough about such works, is quite delighted — not with my compos-
ition, but with the admirable letters of Clive, whom he thinks I have
managed to make tell his own story in a way that is both instructive
and entertaining. I may have to refer up<Hi some points that may
require looking into old public records, or inquiries from natives.
Let me know whom you think the best man to correspond with to
obtain such information. It must be one who has a schocq (taste) for
the thing, otherwise he will think me troublesome.'

Si6 S/I^ yOHN MALCOLM. [iSa7--ag.

than by anything else. This, however, is not strictly tziie.
In a noiseless, unpretending manner, Malcolm did much
good, and recorded, out of the fulness of his knowledge and
experience, many important minutes, distinguished by a
strong sense of justice and a warm sympathy with the
feelings of the people of the country. Perhaps he was not
a popular Governor, any more than was his contemporary.
Lord William Bentinck, who was carrying on the work of
retrenchment as Governor-General of India — work, ever
unwelcome, which Malcolm was bound to second and
support. It was hard upon them, for they were only the
agents of the unpopular measures which, in a paroxysm of
economy, the Company had decreed. Malcolm under-
stood this, and was content.

It would be neither interesting nor instructive to recite
in detail the history of the conflict with the Judges of the
Supreme Court — most prominently with Sir John Peter
Grant, Controversy is ever prone to become more than
commonly acrimonious in India, where men are constitu-
tionally excitable, and the smallness of the public gives a
provincial greatness to little things. I do not mean by this
that the principle contended for was not an important one,
but that much of the asperity With which it was discussed
resulted from the personalities with which it was encrusted.
It is not to be doubted that the Judges of the Supreme
Court tried to push its authority beyond its legitimate limits,
and so to bring the Government into contempt. It was Sir
John Malcolm*s duty to resist this, and he did resist it.
There was, however, perhaps a little too much of the fiery
courage of the Scotch clans in the strife between the Mai-

i827— «9-] THE BOMBAY GOVERNMENT. 317

colms and the Grants^ and this was afterwards frankly and
honourably acknowledged. Malcolm*s natural unreserve
in all matters aflecting himself, led aflerwards to a supple-
mentary discussion of considerable vitality in its day. He
received a letter of hearty, genuine support from Lord
EUenborough, who was then President of the Board of
Control. The contents of this letter were mentioned at the
Governor's breakfast-table, and some one forthwith posted
them to Calcutta, where they soon appeared in the Hurkaru
newspaper 5 and soon everybody in the three Presidencies was
talking about Lord EUenborough's plan of sending Sir John
Grant to Calcutta, in order that he might there be in the
position of a wild elephant between two tame ones. : The
publicity given to the contents of this letter vexed Malcolm
as much as the letter itself had pleased him. But, like
other episodes of the kind, it was but a brief wonder, and
the scandal soon burnt itself out.*

• The only really instructive incident of this affiiir is the impress*
ion made upon Malcolm's mind by the hearty, genuine, inspiriting
support given to him in Lord Ellenborough's letter. Malcolm's own^
account of the effect wrought upon his mind by such encouragement,
is worthy of citation — as a lesson to statesmen : * Independent of the
substances of this commimication, there was in those very expressions
which have been most carped at, what conveyed to my mind theiullest
reliance upon the firmness and decision of the Indian Minister. With
Lord EUenborough I was personally unacquainted. I received his
letter, therefore, as far as the expression went, as a kind proof of the
impressions he had formed of my private and public character.
These impressions alone could have made him write in so familiar a
tone of friendship ; and those only who have served their country in
remote stations can judge the difference of feeling between what such
a commimication is calculated to inspire, and one of a more cold,

3t8 5/ff JOHN MALCOLM, [i8a7-^tv

Of Sir John Malcolm *s personal habits during the time
of his tenure of office as Governor of Bombay, he has himself
g^en some account in a letter, from which the following
passage is taken: 'I have started on the comparatively
moderate plan to which Elphinstone had recently come. I
have a public breakfast at Parell on six days of the week,
and one council-day in the fort. Every one comes that
likes. It is a social levee, without formality or distinction.
I am down half an hour before breakfast, and stay as
long after it. Every human being who desires it, from
writer to judge, from cadet to general, has his turn at the
Governor. At half-past ten I am in my own room, have
no visitors, and am given up to business. I give a grand
dinner and a dance to from eighty to one hundred every
month, and a dinner occasionally to a big-wig going to
England. My other dinners are to my own family. A
Governor, particularly here, can have no invited private
parties of persons whom he likes, for such would be deemed
favourites. My equipments are as good as my station. I
have three elegant carriages, and three pairs of Arabian
horses. I have four or five good riding horses, and leave
the door every morning at a quarter after five, returning a
little after seven, having always gone nine or ten miks,
sometimes more. I drink no wine, and live very moder-
ately. The business is considerable j but it is always greatest

guarded, and official character. The latter may save a Minister from
the effects of the indiscretion of others, but it will never animate
public officers to that zealous and bold execution of their duty which
is produced by cordial and unreserved communication with their
saperiors.'

•827—30.] THE BOMBAY GOVERNMENT, 319

at the commencement. Besides, I already see my way
towards a diminution of it by making others do much of
the minutiae of business/

It is probable that of all the appointments which Mal-
colm had ever held, the Govemdrship of Bombay was that
which afforded him the least personal pleasure. With the
exception of his son, George Malcolm, who was on his
Staff, all the members of his family circle were absent from
him J and for a man of his marked individuality we may
be sure that the work of government, encumbered as he
was by a Council, was scarcely less distasteful to him than
the formalities of hig h official position. He had attained
his object. He had afforded another great example to
stimulate the ambition of the officers of the Company's
Army 5 and now he was eager for England and for rest.
So, when the Governor-General wrote to him, setting
forth that under the new charter a Lieutenant-Governorship
of the North-Western Provinces would be created, and that
Malcolm might have the office if he would, he wrote to
Lord William Bentinck, and after expressing very freely
his private feelings, said : ' Your Lordship will not be sur-
prised that, possessed as I am of an independent fortune,
and with such a family and circle of friends as you know
me to enjoy, I should be most anxious to return to England.
I contemplate, however, no idle life. I have, I trust, a seat
in Parliament awaiting my arrival 5 and on the approaching
question regarding the future administration of India I shall
be better able to serve my country than by contending
with the prejudices and opposite opinions of office-men in
India and England. I now, from many causes, regret that

320 S//^ JOHN MALCOLM, [x8a7— 36;

I did not follow the opinion of the Duke of Wellington,
who was strongly against my coming to India. ... I have
already persuaded myself that whatever disappointment my
ambition may suffer from the line which I can perceive
your Lordship is likely to adopts will be more than compens-
ated by decreased hazard to health \ and I am not without
hope that the period which remains of my existence may
be better employed than in keeping the peace amongst wild
rajahs and thakoors^ and reconciling them to principles of
rule which, however liberal, were not known to their Others
and mothers \ and all this up-hill work liable to be criticised
and condemned by men who had foretold my failure, and
whose reputation for foresight and wisdom depended upon
the fiilfilment of their prophecy.* So, on the 5th of De-
cember, he turned his back upon India for ever. There
was doubtless great happiness in the retrospect. The boy
of thirteen, who had gone to India from the Eskdale Farm,
had left it as the honoured Governor of a great province.
Only one, who had started from the same small beginning,
as a cadet^ had done as much. Not one had ever done
more.

When Sir John Malcolm arrived in England he was in
his sixty-second year. The Duke of Wellington had told
him years before to ' go into Parliament.* Whether the
Duke would have given the same advice then, is doubtful.
But Malcolm did go into Parliament, supported by the
interest of the Duke of Northumberland, and sat for Laun-
ceston as a red-hot Tory. Had he sat in Parliament a

x83o— 3I-] ENGLAND AND REFORM, 32X

vear or two later, when the continuance of the East India
Company's Charter was one of the leading questions of the
day, he would doubtless have been listened to with the pro-
foundest respect; but speaking on the Reform question,
and on the unpopular side, an old Indian General was not
likely to make for himself a very attentive audience. His
opinions, however, were very genuinely his own, and pre-
cisely what might be predicated from the story of his life.
He had grown up with a strong hatred of revolutionary
France 5 he had in India ever been a Conservative, often
opposing himself even to the aggrandisement of his own
country ; he had been shocked by recent revolutions in
Europe, one of which had driven from the throne the King
whom he himself had seen crowned at Rheims ; and he
believed that Reform was only another name for Revolu-
tion. Bound alike by public admiration and private afiec-
tion to the Duke of Wellington, he was ready to follow
that great leader to any battle-fields of politics, as of war.
It is not strange, therefore, that at a period of great
popular excitement we should find him writing thus on the
great question of Reform: * April ij, 1831. — I have just
come into Parliament for the borough of Launceston, in
Cornwall. It is a corporation which the present sweeping
Bill would, if it passed, disfranchise 5 * but I trust in God
it will not. For this Groddess Reform, in the shape her
votaries hav€ given her, is twin-sister to the Goddess of
Reason, who troubled Europe forty years ago, and has re-
appeared to vex the world with changes. I have taken a

• The Refonn Bill, however, only deprived Launceston of one
member. )

70L. I. t\

3aa Sm JOHN MALCOLM. [183^

delightful house for my family on Wimbledon Common^
seven miles from town, where my duties in Parhament
will not prevent my being continually with them all. It
is rather small, but that is its only fault/ ' April 2j, 1831.
— I am no enemy, as you may suppose, to Reform j but
that, to be safe, should be very moderate and very gradual.
Time, we are told, is an innovator. This is true j but he
is an old and a slow one. If we march with him, we are
safe 5 but if we outstrip him, we rush upon danger, if not
upon niin. If not satisfied with the proud and glorious po-
sition in which our country stands — ^if discontented because
there is partial distress, though less, comparatively, than
any nation ever knew — if, in the vanity of our knowledge,
we cast away all the benefits and blessings which have de-
scended from our forefathers — if that reverence for estab-
lished order, that regard to vested rights, that reluctance to
lay a rude and unhallowed hand upon the venerable fabric
of our constitution, prevail^ all those Conservative principles
which have hitherto bound us together will be abandoned,
and new ties and a new order of things must be established,
— I deprecate such sweeping demolition. I expect nothing
from such destruction, except that it will be long remem-
bered as an awful instance of the truth of that sacred text
which says, " God maketh the wisdom of men folly." . . •
The consequences my experience leads me to anticipate
may not be immediate, but they are, in my mind, certain 5
and the option appears to be between our fighting the bat-
tle or leaving a sad inheritance of a deteriorated and broken
constitution to our children. My practical education
makes me an unbehever in these new political lights. I

X83l.] THE REFORM BILL. 323

cannot think that the mantle of Francis Bacon has de-
scended upon Jeremy Bentham. I would not consult men
in a fever on their own case.' 'April 28, 1831. — I send
you copies of my speech as taken from the Mirror of
Parliament, ... It was well received and cheered by the
House. I shall^ however, speak seldom, reserving myself
for Indian affairs. But these, like everything else, if Re-
form, in its present shape, continue, will be carried by pe-
titions from men who want something but they know not
what — by mobs of meetings. By the blessing of Gk)d,
however, a stout stand will be made for the rich inherit-
ance of the constiturion which our fathers have transmitted
to us, and which, with all its defects, is the best in the
known world. I shall never forget our revered father
when this rage for change was abroad thirty-six years ago.
^'I was well," he said, quoting an old Greek proverb, " I
desired to be better 5 I took physic, and I died ! ** I have
his warm blood in my veins, and I will do my best to stem
the torrent.' 'August 6, 1 831. —lam fighting the revo-
lutionary battle. All Europe is about to fight, and he
must be a sage indeed who can foresee the result of the next
four years. The evil in this country lies deep. The whole
of the lower and nmnbers of the middle classes have been
sedulously taught to regard their superiors not only with
envy but hostiUty, as men that sleep and fatten on their
labour and hard earnings. Knowledge without religion or
principle has been universally disseminated, and the desire
to better their condition through chance of spoliation ex-
cited. The designing, who seek change, and the ignorant,
who are deceived by them, are active and loud, whilst

324 SIR JOHN MALCOLKi. fiS^i,

those who desire the tranquillity of the country are hither*
to silent and inert. But the period has come when they
must be roused, or England will change her character^ aa
well as her constitution/

So, no man rejoiced more than Malcolm when, in the
autumn of 183 1, the Reform Bill was thrown out hj the
House of Lords. He was confident of the ultimate triumph
of Conservatism ^ — but it was only a brief gleam of cheer-»
fulness and hope. The following year found the Reformers
more resolute in action than before ; and the cry of tlie
People was not to be resisted. It then became apparent to
him that his days as Member for Launcestonwere numbered f
but the India Committees had now been appointed, and
both as a committee-man and a witness Malcolm could make
himself useful to his country. . His labours in this direction,
however, were soon cut short. In June, the Reform Bill
was passed. Launceston was disfranchised. There was a
general election. Sir John Malcolm was requested to stand
for Dumfries-shire, but a little inquiry soon assured him the
case was hopeless ; so he issued a firank, manly address, and
withdrew fi*om the contest.

But he had an ovation of another kind in his native
county. The gentry of Dumfries-shire, though they might
not accept his politics, were proud of the man, proud of
the family 5 Eskdale and Ewesdale especially rejoicing m
the honour reflected upon them by the deeds of the Burnfoot
family. So they gave a great dinner at Langholm to the
'-three Knights of Eskdale*— Sir James, Sir Pulteny, and
Sir John 5 and toasted them with the heartiest enthusiasm.
Sir John, tliough the youngest of the three, was the most

xBsa.] THE * TI^REE, KNIGHTS OF ESKDALE: 325

practised speaker^ and his broth^*s asked him to respond to
the toast. The speech is said to have been * full of strong
feeling and impressive eloquence/ warm from the heart, and
it drew tears into many eyes. That dinner is still vividly
remembered in Langholm j and people relate how, when
the three Knights took their seats in the carriage that was
to convey them to Burnfoot, the people took the horses out
of it, and drew the heroes with shouts beyond the boundaries
of the town.*

Then Sir John Malcolm returned to his books and his
papers, and betook himself to another occupation in which
men of all kinds have found delight. He had purchased
an estate in Berkshire, and he was solacing himself with
bricks and mortar. He wrote to his friends that his ' genius
must be employed in reforming an old English fabric;*
* which I trust to do,* he added, ' in a manner that would
be a lesson to Ministers, if they had leisure to observe and
sense to copy my proceedings ! Nothing is subverted, though
much is amended, and looking to the good shelter from the
storm this home-nest afforded for more than a century to
its inmates, I care little fcH- its shape not being accordant
with modern rules.' Work of this kind was laden w .th
delightful anticipations of a future, in which those dearest
to his heart held a happy place. ' At Warfield,' he wrote
in his journal, ' directing a few buildings of brick and mortar,

• There is a statue of Sir Pulteny Malcolm in Langholm, and an
obelisk to the memory of Sir John on the heights above the town. It
should be added that there was a fourth knight in the Malcolm
6imily — Sir Charl^, who was then at Bombay as Superintendent of
Marine* - .

396 S/Ii JOHN MALCOLM, [iSaa-gs.

and building at less cost various castles in the aio associated
with the future enjoyment of this beautiful residence. God
grant it may be early tenanted by those whom my busy
imagination portrayed as sitting in its chambers or wandering
in its walks^ while all^ according to my fond anticipations,
agree in praising the taste and labour that had prepared for
them so delightful a home.* And with these thoughts were
blended others^ scarcely less pleasant^ of the literary pursuits
from which he had been compelled to turn aside under the
pressure of public life. He was eager to bring to a conclu-
sion his Life of Lord Clive, and he had commenced a new
work on the government of India, in which he purposed to
set forth the results of an experience of nearly fifty years.

The Company *s Charter question was now coming on
for discussion, and Malcolm, though excluded firom the
House of Commons, felt that he could at least do something
by making his views known to the public through the me-
diimi of the Court of Proprietors of India Stock. He owed
little or nothing to the Directors, except the cadetship,
which he had turned to such good account. It was his
opinion that, as the pupil and friend of Lord Wellesley,
who had denounced them as the ' ignominious t3rrants of
Leadenhall-street,' they had set their faces against him.
This was a mistake ^ but he was not beholden to them for
any special favours, and he could not be accused of any un-
just leanings towards them. But he knew how necessary
to the welfare of our Indian Empire was the existence of
such an intermediate body as the Court of Directors of the
East India Company, and he moved, in a long and able
speech at the India House, the resolutions in favour of the

1833] ^^S LAST ILLNESS. 337

acceptance by the Company of the governing authority,
without the commercial privileges they had enjoyed, ' pro-
vided that powers be reserved to enable the Company effi-
ciently to administer the government, and thaf their pecu-
niary rights and claims be adjusted upon the principle of
fair and liberal compromise.*

It was the last public act of his long and eventful life.
There are many who remember that spring of 1833. The
cholera had invaded our island, and, supervening upon it, a
dire influenza, even more destructive than the foreign
enemy, came to fill our houses with mourning. It was one
of the saddest seasons within my recollection.* The whole
population of London seemed to be clothed in black.
Among other victims, the home-born epidemic seized upon
Sir John Malcolm. It weakened him grievously ; but, in
spite of the remonstrances of his firiends, he insisted upon
going down, day after day, to the India House to watch, if
he could not take part, in the debates. But before those
debates were brought to an end. Sir John Malcolm was
struck down by paralysis in his carriage j was carried home
to his house in PrinceVstreet, and never again gave articu-
late utterance to his thoughts.

In this state he lay for some time, pitiably feeble and
distressed, able neither to speak nor to express his wants
and wishes by intelligible gestures. His family were absent
from him when the blow fell 5 1 but they hastened to Lon-

* I went out to India, for the first time, in the midst of it — ^taking
with me Sir John Malcolm's book, from which I learnt, as a cadet,
my first lessons of Indian government.

t Lady Malcolm was at Hastings, where Sir John, then residing

32J S/Id JOHN MALCOLM. l^^^

don with all possible despatch, and he was solaced by the
tender ministrations of his beloved wife to the last. Though
physically prostrate and helpless, his mind had not lost its
activity j his thoughts were continually travelling back to
the court- room in Leadenhall-street, and the progress of
the debate on the Resolutions which he had moved. When
Lady Malcolm, rightly interpreting these thoughts, told
him that the Resolutions had been carried by a decisive
majority, it appeared as though a burden of painful uncer-
tainty had passed away from him, and that he was content.
After some weeks he rallied a little; and the principal
physician in attendance upon him thought so well of the
appearances of recovery that he sent his patient out for a
little carriage exercise. But on one of those bitter May
days, so common in our English springs, the sick man was
chilled by the exposure, without being revived by the
change ; and the worst symptoms of his malady returned.
From that time his decline was rapid, and the hopes which
had animated those who watched by his side were stilled
for ever. It was now plain that he was dying. It had at
one time seemed possible that he might be removed to the
new Berkshire home, which he had been so diligently pre-
panng for himself 5 but now this chenshed thought was
abandoned, and on the very day on which tidings came to
Prince*s-street that the mansion at Warfield was ready for
his reception, that active, strong, whole-hearted workman
closed his eyes upon the world for ever.

He died upon the 30th of May, 1833, and was buried

in Prince's-street, Hanover-square, was about to join her, when he;
was struck down. .

X833.] ^IS CHARACTER. 329

very privately and unostentatiously in the vaults of St
James's Church, Piccadily. But fitting monuments were
erected to his memory by friends and admirers in England
and in Scotland. A noble monumental statue by Chantrey
adorns our venerable Abbey at Westminster, and a lofty
granite obelisk, of which it has been said that, ' symbolizing
Malcolm's career, it rises from the heather and looks across
the border far into the gray distance,' stands out against the
sky from the summit of Langholm Hill. On both, the
claims of Sir John Malcolm to the admiration and the
esteem of his fellows, are set forth in very similar terms of
admiration.

Having told the story of his life — the life of one who
had no disguises, and who lived, perhaps, more than any
man of his age, in the broad daylight, fully exposed to the
observation of his contemporaries — it is scarcely necessary
that I should dwell upon his character. Men differ about
the place that should be assigned to him in the gradation-
list of the Company's distinguished servants 5 but it would
be impossible to fix his relative position, and of small use
to do it if it could be done. He very little resembled those
friends and fellow-workmen, Munro, Elphinstone, and
Metcalfe, with whom we are wont to rank him. He was
a man, indeed, mi generis. Of all the men of whom it is
my privilege to write in these volumes, he possessed the
most perfect physical organization. The monumental in-
scriptions, which dwell upon his ' extraordinary mental and
physical powers,' show a right appreciation of the great
union^-the rnens sana in corpora sano — to which is to be
attributed his successful career. He was the robustest and

330 SIJ^ JOHN MALCOLM. [1833.

most athletic of all our Indian statesmen — soldiers or civil*
tans. He was> and be acted, on a large scale. The most
depreciatory commentaries upon him are that he was a
boisterous sort of person — that he talked and laughed a little
too much. But, in the much talking, there were indica-
tions of an admirable amount of frankness and sincerity^
and in the much laughing, of the cheerfulness and kindli-
ness of a simple nature and a good heart.^ He was an
enthusiast, and he loved enthusiasts. Men*s own words ofteti
best describe their characters j and I do not know that any-
thing can better describe the innermost springs of Malcolm's
nature than the following passages of a letter which he
wrote to a young friend — a nephew, I believe — ^who was
about to enter upon a career of Indian military service :
' An officer,' he wrote, ^ who desires distinction (and he
must have a mean, wretched soul who does not), must be
alike active in body and mind. He must devote evefy
moment he can spare from duty to the improvement of his
education, in the conviction that increased knowledge, if it
should not even promote his advancement, must promote
his happiness. He should join his companions in every
manly exercise and every moderate enjoyment, but shun
vicious indulgence and intemperance of every kind, as the
bane of all his hopes, and the ruin of aU those expectations
which his friends had formed. To enable him to do this^
I know of nothing more essential than that his heart should

• When he was sitting for his bust to Chantrey, he wrote to a
very intimate friend, saying that the sculptor had tried hard to catch
his 'saucy* expression. The epithet is Chantre/s, but Malcolm
xecognized its truth, and was not displeased by it

i8^.] HIS CHARACTER. S3»

always have a horae. Cherish your love for your surviving
parent, for those who brought you up, for those who will
exult in your future good reputation, and whose hearts will
bleed for your errors or misconduct. Habituate yourself
to have such feelings always in your mind j they will enable
you to withstand temptation, they will impart a fortitude
that will overcome difficulties, and they will animate you
in the hour of danger. Commence your career with a
resolution to be a soldier, and give your mind (if the im-
pression is not already made) the conviction that there is no
profession more virtuoas, more elevated, or more glorious
than that into which you have entered. As a defender of
your country, you should feel an importance that will raise
you above the motives of those who deem the army a
livelihood, and continue in it merely because they can dis-
cover no better means of supporting themselves. Such men
never can he enthusiasts, and without real enthusiasm a person
in your situation never can rise,* If I could conceive that
you ever would sink into one of those jog-trot animals, I
should regret that I had not tried to place you behind a
coimter as a man-milliner. Do not mistake me about
enthusiasm. I mean no li^t vapouring quality, such as
unsteady characters often possess, whose efforts are bom
one moment and die the next 5 but that noble resolution of
the mind which no labour or danger daunts in the pursuit
of its object, which fixes the subaltern for years to studies
that are to enable him to excel when he is a field-officer,

* The reader may advantageously compare this with what Sir H.
Lawrence said on the same subject of enthusiasm or romance. — Ser
Memoir in Vol. II,

333 sm yOHN MALCOLM. [1839^

which leads him to inure himself to privations in the time
of plenty that he may not heed them where they aie un-
avoidable, and makes him court every kind of service that
can increase his chance of notice and distinction.* In this
Sir John Malcolm sets forth the results of his own expen-
ence, and all the more earnestly for the recollection that be
himself had nearly broken down at the outset of his career,
and was saved almost by a miracle from becoming a mere
cast-away.*

As it is my object in this work to display personal
examples of a varied but all of a high character, and not to
propound theories of Indian government, I shall not speak^
at much length, of Sir John Malcolm's character as a states-
man, or of the opinions which he entertained. History has
claimed him as a follower of Lord Wellesley, and inasmuch
as he was, before all men, perhaps, the most active agent
of that great man's policy, the description may be correct.
But it may be doubted whether Malcolm derived any
inspiration from that source. He formed his own opinions,
and he honestly acted upon them, even though, by his self-

♦ In a little book by Mr Ruskin, which I read on the evening
before I wrote the above sentence, I found the following passage.
It is part of a lecture delivered by that great writer to the Woolwich
cadets. * No good soldier in his old age was ever careless or indolent
in his youth. Many a giddy or thoughtless boy has become a good
bishop, or a good lawyer, or a good merchant ; but no such an one
ever became a good general. I challenge you all in history to find a
record of a good soldier who was not grave and earnest in youth.* I
accept the challenge, and offer Sir John Malcolm to Mr Ruskin ;
and! could give him a few more modern instances in refutation of
his wise saw. ....

x833r] : HIS CHARACTER. . 333

assertion in opposition to his master's views, he might havei
lost for ever the friendship which he so much valued. He
was more moderate than Lord Wellesley. He had a
deeper and more abiding sense of what was due to the
princes and people, and a more paramount respect for
obligations involving the good faith of the British Govern-
ment. He ever thought good faith of more importance
than political expediency. Whilst he was yet a stripling,
he recorded his opinion that an ' invariable rule ought to be
observed by all Europeans who have connections with the
natives of India — never to practise any art or indirect
method of gaining their end, and, from the greatest occa-
sion to the most trifling, to keep sacred their word. This
is not only their best but their wisest policy. By this con-
duct they will observe a constant superiority in all their
transactions 5 but when they act a different part — ^when
they condescend to meet the smooth-tongued Mahomedan
or the crafty Hindoo with the weapons of flattery, dis-
simulation, and cunning, they will of a certainty be
vanquished.' * And these were no mere puerile platitudes,
but the strong convictions which were striking root within
him, and which never decayed to the last day of his life.
At a later period, when he was in antagonism with Lord
Wellesley, he wrote, that ' if we determine a case of a dis-
putable nature in our own favour because we have power,
we shall give a blow to our faith which will, in my opinion,
be more injurious to our interests than the loss of fifty pro-
vinces.' The maintenance of the good faith of the British
Government was ever uppermost in his thoughts, and he

. ♦ Ante^ p. 194.

354 Sm JOHN MALCOLM. [1833.

gtxx>ye^ justly and generously, to develop this principle in
his practical dealings with the Native Princes of India. He
was one who would have resisted to the utmost the looser
morality and the more short-sighted policy of later days. He
loved the natives of India, and he was loved by them j and
even in these dap his memory is sweet and ' blosisoms in
the dust.'

333

THE HON. MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE.

[born 1779.— DIBD 1859.]

A HISTORY of the Civil Service of the East India
Company would be a most interesting and instructive
record. In that service many great men, sprung from the
middle classes, without high family connections or any
other adventitious circumstances to give them more than
their first start in life, have risen to high position and to
still higher reputation. From the days of Warren Hastings
to the days of John Lawrence, there have never been
wanting members of the Civil Service to evince by their
actions the possession of heroic qualities of the highest
order. To be a civilian in India is not to be merely a
member of a great bureaucracy. The duties which he is
called upon to face are not solely the duties of the desk.
As the soldier in India is often called upon to lay down the
sword and to take up the portfolio of the administrator, so
the civilian is often, on the great high road of his duty,
surrounded by circumstances which compel him to lay
down the portfolio and to gird on the sword. Of the
pivilian-soldier there was no better type than John Malcolm.
Of the soldier-civilian there is none better than Mountstuart

336 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE, 1779— ^S'

Elphiastone. I have given some account of the first 5 I
now proceed to narrate some of the more noticeable in-
cidents in tlie history of the second.*

Mountstuart Elphinstone was the fourth son of a Scotch
peer of that name -, but though by courtesy an ' honour-
able ' and of a very ancient Hneage, the associations of his
family were rather those of the middle classes than of the
aristocracy, and many of his kindred, moved by that spirit
of adventure which is so powerful an element in the
national character, had gone forth to seek their fortunes in
the East. His father was a sojdier, who rose to be a
General Officer and Governor of Edinburgh Castle j but
one of his uncles was a Director of the East India Com-
pany, and Indian writerships were held to be no unsatisfac-
tory provision for the younger sons of Scotch peers.

The first fourteen years of Mountstuart's life were
spent in Scotland 3 a goodly part of them in Edinburgh
Castle. What he learnt either at home or at the High
School, which he attended for two years, was probably not
much ; for he was not a studious boy, but one delighting
in manly exercises and somewhat addicted to mischief.
Seventy years aflerwards there were those who still bore
in remembrance the lithe figure and the long curly goldea
locks of the good-looking, lively, sprightly boy, who out-
raged the loyal sensibilities of his father and other officers
of the Castle, by singing snatches of revolutionary songs

♦ As Sir Henry Lawrence may be bracketed with M^colm, so
Sir Charles Metcalfe may be bracketed with Elphinstone. I write
merely of the external circumstances of their lives. Their characters
were widely different.

1779— 93'] EDUCATION IN ENGLAND, 337

learnt from the French prisoners who were confined there.
His juvenile principles had a strong republican complexion,
and the hair which he wore down his back was intended
to be the outward sign of his revolutionary sentiments.
And it is related that years afterwards the memory of this
juvenile republicanism was a standing joke against him,
and that after his arrival in India some of his companions
gave it practical demonstration by presenting Mountstuart
with a cap of liberty and a tricolour cockade.

When he was fourteen years of age he was sent to
England, and placed under the educational charge of Dr
Thomson, of Kensington j with whom he remained until
he was taken away to be sent to India, as a writer on the
Company's establishment. He spent his holidays at the
house of his uncle, Mr Adam, whose son John was des-
tmed for the same service, and who lived to become one
of its brightest ornaments. As a stripling, young Elphin-
stone does not seem to have been Ynore grave in his studies
than as a boy. He was said to have been ' clever enough
for anything,* but very idle, full of spirit, and somewhat
boisterous in his mirth. But he was fond of reading too
— in certain directions 5 and it is remembered that he
delighted in quoting Shakspeare and reciting snatches of
doggrel rhyme, perhaps of his own making. Those were
days when no one thought of literary examinations or
proficiency tests of any kind, and yet they produced public
servants unsurpassed by any that have been given to India
by Haileybury or the Civil Service Commission.

In July, i795> Mountstuart Elphinstone, being then

sixteen years of age, embarked for India. Among nis
VOL. 1. 22

338 MOUNTSTUART BLPHiNSTONE. t^T^S— ».

fellow-passengers was his cousin, John Adam, of wiiom f
have already spoken, and a cadet named Houston, who
was going out to join the Bengal Cavalry. The former,
in due course, became Secretary to Government, member
of Council, and, during a brief interregnum, Governor-
General of India. The latter, after doing some good
service in India, became Lieutenant-Grovernor of Addis-
combe (where he was known to more than one* generation
of cadets by the sobriquet of ' Black Dick'), and died Sir
R. Houston, K.C.B.*

When, early in 1796, young Elphinstone landed at
Calcutta, Sir John Shore was Governor-General of India.
He was a man of a quiet mind, and the times were
eminently quiet. But the historian of his career has one
noticeable incident to dwell upon — one not imexciting
story to tell — the story of the Oude succession. Sir John
Shore set aside the claims of Vizier Ali to the throne of
Oude, and the young man from that time cherished a
feeling of bitterest resentment against the English. A
dangerous and disaffected person, he was held under some
kind of surveillance at Benares, but he had a considerable
number of followers, with all his own insolence and vin-
dictiveness, and one day in 1799 they fell upon the British
officers at the Residency and massacred all within their
reach. It happened that at this time Mr Elphinstone was
assistant to the magistrate at Benares. His young Cavalry

• I am indebted for these memorials of Elphinstone*s early life
principally to a very interesting and valuable biographical sketch
contributed by Sir Edward Colebrooke to the Journal of the Asiatic
Society,

1799] ^/^-S" T DA YS IN INDIA . 339

friend, Houston, was paying him a visit whilst the slaughter
was going on at the Residency \ and the disastrous tidings
reached them in time only for them to mount their horses,,
and, pursued by Vizier Ali*s troopers, to ride for their very
lives. There are some men who appear to be born ever
to be in the thick of the world's action — ever on the great
high road of History, pressing forward, with their loins
girt about ; whilst others repose quietly in peaceful nooks,
or saunter idly along the byways of life. To the first and
the smaller class belonged Mountstuart Elphinstone. . This
escape from Vizier Ali's horsemen prefigured his whole
career. There was now to be a great growth of Histor}' ;
and ever for more than twenty years he was to be in the
thick of it.

A new Governor-General had begun to reign j and a
new era had commenced. Lord Wellesley was a man
with a 'grand policy,' and, scorning all constitutional
restraints, he determined to work it out. This grand policy
was incompatible with peace 5 so in a little time our armies
were in motion, firstly in Southern India, where Tippoo
was to be subdued, and secondly in Central India, where
accoimts were to be settled with the Mahratta Princes* To
the events which were developing themselves in the latter
part of the country, I have now to invite the reader's
attention — a wide expanse stretching from Delhi to Poonah,
over which Lord Wellesley was extending the network of
his diplomacies in days when diplomacy was ever another
name for war. For riien of action the times were most
propitious.' The Company's civil servants might • provide
the investment,' or administer the regulations j they might

340 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE, [1801.

be merchants, or magistrates, or revenue collectors, it tbey
desired to live peaceably with good houses over their heads 3
but for more adventurous spirits there was a grand outlet
through what was officially called the 'Political Depart-
ment,* but which in Europe is known as the Diplomatic
Service. To that service all the most high-spirited young
civilians eagerly betook themselves 5 and Mr Elphinstone
among the first of them. His early inclinations had been
all towards the military profession ; in his teens he had
looked upon the life of a subaltern as the ne plus ultra of
human enjoyment ; and there was that in him which, had
circumstances favoured his wishes, would have made him
one of the firtt captains of the age. But although it was
provided that he should live much in the camp, and see, face
to face, the stern realities of war, there was no recognized
position for him in the battle-field, and. therefore only the
danger of the fight without its honours and rewards.

But there were honours and rewards of another kind,
and young Elphinstone was fully satisfied. In 1801, he
was appointed an assistant to the British Resident at
Poonah, or, in other words, an attach^ to the British Mis-
sion at the Court of the Peishwah — the greatest of the
Mahratta Princes. The Resident was Colonel (afterwards
S:r Barry) Close 5 an officer of high distinction, to whom
both soldiers and diplomatists looked up with reverence,
and under whom any young aspirant might be proud and
happy to serve. In the whole range of service there was
no post better fitted to call forth and develop the energy
and ability of such a man as Mr Elphinstone. Once
appointed to it, he was on the high road to fame and

i8oi— 1803.] THE MAHRATTA WAR, 341

fortune. The times, as I have said, were most propitious
for those who panted for action. The Mahrattas, having
usurped the power of the Mogul and established their
supremacy in Upper India, were now contending among
themselves. This was our opportunity. The g^eat game
was now to be played with something like a certainty of
winning. The disunion of the Mahrattas was their weak-
ness 5 their weakness was our strength. Dum Hnguli prce-
liantur universi vincuntur. It was Lord Wellesley's policy
to interfere in these internal disputes, and he did so, by
espousing the cause of the Peishwah, and entering into a
friendly alliance with him. Whether the British Governor
might not have been content to look on a little longer,
without taking a hand in the game, is a question for his-
torians to discuss. It is enough here to say, that, having
entangled ourselves in diplomacies, we were soon in the
midst of war.

The year 1803 was a memorable one in the annals of
India — memorable in the career of Mountstuart Elphin-
stone — memorable in the career of a still greater man, who
then first made for himself a place in history. Colonel Arthur
Wellesley, the brother of the Governor-General, had taken
part in the operations which resulted in the conquest of
Mysore J but the qualities which he had displayed were
not so conspicuously great as to. preserve him from the
reproach of being favoured as the brother of the Governor-
General. The Mahratta war, however, proved him to be
a true soldier. It was the privilege of Mountstuart Elphin-
stone to watch the dawn of the great captain's glory. It
has happened to many a man at the outset of his career to

542 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [1893.

profit largely by an accident which has been a Jieavy blow
and a great loss to another. It has been told in the pre-
ceding Memoir how Major John Malcolm, to whom the
Govemor-Greneral had intrusted the political conduct of
the operations in Berar, fell sick at the commencement of
the campaign, and, bitterly disappointed, was compelled,
for very hfe's sake, to quit the camp. Then Mr Elphin-
stone was sent to fill his place, and eagerly he went to the
front. In August, 1803, he joined General Wellesley at
Ahmednuggur 3 and though he had not been long in camp
before sickness fell upon him also, he did not succumb to
it. The great battle of Assye found the young civilian
with his foot in the stirrup beside his military chief. The
flanks of their horses touched each other as they rode, con-
versing quietly as on parade, through the thick of that hot
fight. All his old military ardour was then revived 3 and
such not only was his coolness under fire, but the quickness
of his eye and the soundness of his judgment with respect
to military dispositions and combinations, that at the close
of the campaign Wellesley said of his young friend that he
had mistaken his calling, for he was certainly born a
soldier.

This was after the siege of Gawilghur, at which Mr
Elphinstone was present, and had again evinced the fine
soldierly qualities which had excited the admiration of Sir
Arthur Wellesley at Assye. There was then a season in which
the negotiator took the place of the military commander,
and there were some sharp diplomatic conflicts which de-
manded the exercise of no common skill and sagacity : for
one of the astutest of native politicians was then arrayed

1803—1807.] AT NAGPORE, 343-

against us — the well-known Wattel Punt. Malcolm, as
already told, soon returned to camp 5 but his absence had
made Elphinstone*s fortune. Sir Arthur Wellesley wrote
officially to his brother, in eulogistic language, well deserved,
of the services rendered to him by the young civilian.
'Upon the occasion,* he said, 'of mentioning Mr Elph in-
stone, it is but justice to that gentleman to inform your
Excellency, that I have received the greatest assistance from
him since he has been with me. He is well versed in the
language, has experience and a knowledge of the Mahratta
powers and their relations with each other, and with the
British Grovemment and its allies. He has been present in
all the actions which have been fought in this quarter during
the war, and at all the sieges. He is acquainted with every
transaction that has taken place, and with my sentiments
upon all subjects. I therefore take the liberty of recom-
mending him to yoUr Excellency.*

On the conclusion of peace, Mr Elphinstone was ap-
pointed to represent British interests at the Court of the
Rajah of Berar y and he remained at Nagpore, after the
departure of Lord Wellesley from India, during the brief
second reign of Lord Cornwallis and the interregnum of
Sir Gkorge Barlow. The times were uneventful 5 but they
were not wanting in opportunities to a man of Mr Elphin-
stone*s character 5 for rarely has one so fitted for active life
evinced at the same time so eager an inclination towards
studious pursuits. In quiet times, he could subside con-
tentedly into a bookworm, and find measureless deligl: t in
the great works of ancient and modern literature. One of
lus favourite authors was Thucydides, and many years after-

344 M0UNTSTUAR7' BLPHINSTONE. [1807.

wards he reminded his friend, Mr (afterwards Sir Richard)
Jenkins, of the days when they read the works of that great
historian together at Nagpore. Having left England at
the early age of sixteen, and having up to that time shown
no great partiality for persevering study, he had carried
with him to India only a slender stock of learning. But
he had taken with him, all the same, a genuine love of
literature, and he coveted the possession of a greater store
of that precious intellectual wealth. So, whenever there was
not much active work to be done, in the line either of war
or of diplomacy, he addressed himself eagerly to his books.
There are many who, in after days, knowing him only as
a scholar and a recluse, were slow to believe in the energy
of his character and the activity of his habits ; but at the
time of which I am now writing he was all energy and
activity, and his library campaigns were but the comple-
ment or filling-up of a life of action. * He was a bold and
accomplished rider 5 he delighted in field-sports 5 he had a
quick eye and a ready hand with the boar-spear j and in
the face of any kind of danger was as cool and collected as
though he had nothing before him more difficult than a
Greek verb.

Those were days when reputations ripened rapidly, and
young men went to the ft-ont with great responsibilitiet
upon them, such as in later times were seldom intrusted to
them in the earlier stages of their career. The British
Government in India, now represented by Lord Minto, had
need of all its ablest servants 5 for it seemed that a conjunc-
ture had arisen of a grave and alarming character, and that
England might soon be called upon to contend with othei

1807—1809.] THE CAUBUL MISSION. 345

great Powers for the mastery of the East. It happened, as
already told, that after the peace of Tilsit in 1807, there
was great dread of the results of the close alliance which
was then formed between the Powers of France and Russia.
So the British Governments in India and in England pre-
pared themselves for the defence of their eastern dominions.
This, in the first instance, was to be done, not by the equip-
ment of armies or the erection of fortifications, but by
diplomatic address. It was possible to undermine French
influence at the Court of Persia 5 and it was possible to
obtain the good offices of the Sovereign Princes occupying
the territories between the British and the Persian frontiers.
The invading armies must have marched through AiF-
ghanistan and Sindh, or through AiFghanistan and the
Punjab. It was of primary importance, therefore, for the
British Government to cement friendly alliances with the
rulers of those countries. And Lord Minto wisely deter-
mined to send embassies to them. Mr Elphinstone was
then selected to conduct the British mission to be despatched
to the Court of Caubul. In these days, there is nothing in
such a task as that which then devolved upon the young
statesman to lift it out of the regions of common-place.
• But fifty years ago the great tract of country lying between
the Sutlej River and the Hindoo Koosh was almost a terra
incognita to British travellers. One enterprising English-
man— a civil servant of the East India Company named
Forster — had explored those coimtries, and had published
two interesting quarto volumes descriptive of them. But
he had travelled in disguise, and crept along his route j
whereas there was now to be an imposing embassy, making

346 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE, [1809.

a great display of the wealth of the British Government
and the greatness of its resources. The reigning moDarch
at that time was Shah Soojah^ he with whom at a later
period we formed a closer and more disastrous alliance.
Mr Elphinstone was to endeavour to rouse his fears for his
own safety, and by showing him that if Persia entered into
• a compact with the European Powers hostile to England
he would inevitably be destroyed, stimulate him -to put
forth all his strength to oppose their progress from the
westward. It was the policy of our Government to abstain
from entering into any offensive engagements with the
Court of Caubulj but Mr Elphinstone was told that
'should the contracting these engagements be absolutely
required by the King, the eventual aid to be afforded by
us ought to be limited to supplies of arms, ordnance, and
military stores, rather than troops.*

Proceeding by the route of Bekanier, Bahwulpur, and
Mooltan, the Mission entered Peshawur on the 35th c£
February, 1809 5 and on the 5th of March, Mr Elphinstone
had his first audience of the King.* Whatsoever might be

* He was attended by a staff of English officers, among whom
were Mr Strachey, as secretary, and I^ieutenant Macartney, as
geographer ; Captain Raper, Mr Tickell, and Mr R. Alexander were
also attached to the Mission. Macartney died shortly after his return
to India, and his loss, of which mention will be found in Sir James
Mackintosh's journals, was great to Eastern science. The duties of
collating and recording information were divided between these
officers, Elphinstone himself taking the department of * Government
and Manners.' At a later period, when our officers visited Afghan-
istan, they generally orientalized themselves as much as possible. But
the officers of Elphinstone's Mission took no pains to disguise the
outward characteristics of English gentlemen of that period ; and

1809.] MEETING WITH SHAH SOOJAH, .947

Shah Soojah's character as a ruler or a statesman, the Ene-
lish Ambassador saw plainly that he was a court^us, well-
mannered gentleman, and that his feelings towards the
British Government were really, as they were professedly,
friendly. But he was distracted by domestic cares. He
had a dangerous revolution to cope with in his own king-
dom. He did not wish the British Mission to proceed any
farther into the heart of his dominions, which were in a
disturbed state 5 and, indeed, the best advice he could give
to the English gentlemen was, that they should go home as
fast as they could, imless they were inclined to help him
against his enemies. When a man's own house is on fire,
it is no time to alarm him on the score of remote dangers :
and he soon found that the British Grovemment would not
help him to extinguish these domestic flames.

The AfFghan Ministers, it must be admitted, argued
the case acutely and not without some amount of fairness.
They could not see why, if the English wished the King of
Caubul to help them against their enemies, they should not
in their turn help the King to resist his 5 but as it was, they
said, all the advantage was on our side, and all the danger
on the side of the King. * They stated,* wrote Mr Edmon-
stone in a letter to Lord Minto,* ' that an alliance for the
purpose of repelling one enemy was imperfect, and the
true friendship betjBveen two States could only be main-
tained by identifying their int^*ests in all cases 5 that Shah
Mahmbud had not influence over the Douranees, and

they were told that they might have done better if they had only let
their beards grow. Elphinstone himself was always a fair, close-
shaven man, with nothing in the least oriental in his appearance.

3^8 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [1809.

would be obliged — if he obtained the crown — to put him-
self under the protection of the Persians to maintain his
authority j that he had before connected himself with that
people, and was naturally inclined to them ; and that from
the moment of his restoration to the government of this
country we might consider the French and Persians as
already on the Indus. They said the AfFghanS were a
powerful people against foreign invaders, and that when
the French and Persians came, they might not require our
assistance, but that we might regret our tardy aid if, before
the threatened attack commenced, the present Grovemment
of this country was overthrown, and all the fruit of our
alliance with it destroyed. Supposing a weaker case, and
that Shah Soojah was only able to make head against the
rebels without destroying them, they said that an attack
from the French and Persians might then be difficult to
withstand, and it would cost us millions to effect what
might now be done for thousands. Throughout their whole
discourse they seemed to consider the invasion of the French
and Persians to be by no means formidable, imless aided by
intestine divisions j but they were candid enough to admit
that the war with those nations concerned them as much
as it did us. In reply to this, I said that my instructions
went only to the conclusion of a defensive alliance against
the French and Persians, and that I knew your Lordship
would never wish to take any part in the domestic quarrels
of the Afghans, that your Lordship would of course be
anxious that his Majesty's means of repelling invasion
should be strengthened by the removal of the disturbances
within his dominions, but unless it could be proved to

i809.] AFGHAN DIPLOMACY, 349

your Lordship's satisfactioQ that the party in rebellion wa»
connected with the commoD enemy^ it would be entirely
out of your plan to interfere in them. I said that we did
not profess to act towards this State merely from motives
of disinterested friendship. If we did, the King would
have cause to suspect us of harbouring designs which we
thought it impolitic to avow. I frequently urged them to
bring forward any informartioo they possessed respecting
Shah Mahmoud*s connection with the Persians, but they
always acknowledged their belief that he had no transac*
. tions with that nation.*

At the subsequent interviews the Afghan diplomatists
repeated these arguments, and besought the English Am-
bassador to grant assistants to the King to enable him to
put down the revolution of Shah Mahmoud. But £lphin-
stone, ever proceeding with extreme caution, answered
these demands by saying that he would refer the question
to the Governor-General. They professed to be surprised
at this, and told him that they could not understand the
object of his embassy, as they saw nothing with which he
was charged that could not have been intrusted to a chu-
prassy. The treaty, they said, was merely a snare for them,
and would force them, if they concluded it, either to break
their faith or to bear the whole brunt of the war, whilst
the English Ambassadw was referring for orders. * I an-
swered them,* wrote Elphinstcme, ' by stating in the least
offensive manner the utter fallacy of their statements, and
the entire misconception of the case into which they had
fallen. I said they seemed to think we came to beg
or purchase their assistance in a war which concerned us

350 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [i8o^

alone, and that our situation was such that we should be
ruined if they did not immediately accede to our demands^
but that the truth was that the war concerned them more
than us 5 whether the French came as pretended friends or
open enemies, the Afghans must fight or lose their country,
and the enemy could not approach us till they were subdued
either by force or fraud. All I had to add was to show
them their danger and offer assistance to repel it. They
might tell me what assistance they required, and I would
submit to your Lordship. If the British Grovernment had
thought their co-operation accessary to its safety, I should
have been authorized to purchase it by concessions 5 at pre-
sent, your Lordship empowered me to offer aid and to hear
what they required, but reserved 'the decision to yourself.
In the mean time you depended on your own means of
warding off the danger. I then gave a short account of our
expeditions to Spain and Portugal, and explained the pre-
parations at Bombay as far as I could with propriety, and
concluded by saying that we had often been at war with all
the world, and had never suffered in the contest, and that
if the French by any means got this country into their
power we should still be able to oppose them, as we had
been in many more diflicult junctures.' *

* It was not the least difficult part of Elphinstone's work at this
time to convince the Afghan Ministers^ that the English were not a
very weak nation in comparison with the Douranees. The following
extract from one of Elphinstone's letters is highly amusing : * I took
this opportunity of enlarging on the openness of the English character,
and of showing how little a system of refinement and deceit w^
suited either to the principles or to the genius of our nation, and com-
plained of the hardship of being suspected of concealment at the

i8o9.] AFGHAN DIPLOMACY. 351

The Mission remained at Peshawur, watching the pro-
gress of events, until the middle of the month of June. As
time advanced^ the troubles of the King thickened around
him. He could not make way against the rebellion of his
brother 5 and in the early summer he was disastrously beaten
in a pitched battle. He has himself recorded, in his Auto-
biography, that he had resolved, on hearing of the rebellion
of Mahmoud, ' first to place the Company's ambassadors in
a state and place of safety, and proceed to punish the rebels ,
and then, if God would grant a victory, he intended to re-
time when I was suffering the inconveniences of plain dealing. Moollah
Jaffier observed, in reply to what I had been saying, that his Majesty
was resolved not to give a passage to the French and Persians, but if
he did there seemed no reason to apprehend the dangers I had
described. If ten thousand French were in each of the cities of
Herat, Candahar, Caubul, and Peshawur, the word of one Moollah
would be sufficient to destroy them without the assistance of a single
soldier. He said the King did not fear their intrigues. The Afghans
were divided among themselves, but such was their national spirit
that a rebel would rather deliver himself up to the King than accept
the assistance of a foreign Power. He could not allow that it was
so easy for us to repel our enemies on our own frontier. If the King
gave them a passage he would join in their enterprise, and we should
find a war with the Douranees very different from one with the
French. He followed up this ridiculous bravado with a long
encomium on the valour of the Douranees, and the absurdity of sup-
posing that any foreign Power could make an impression on them.
He said that he did not believe that we intended to impose upon the
King, but he did not think that we were so plain as we pretended to
be. He said our" reputation was very high for good faith and for
magnanimous conduct to conquered Princes, but he frankly owned
that we had the character of being very designing, and that most
people thought it necessary to be very vigilant in all transactions with
lis.* — MS. Records.

3Sa MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [1809.

turn to treat them in a proper manner.* But there was no
such good fortune in store for the unfortunate Prince. He
was emineq^y unprosperous, and in his misfortune he would
have made any terms with the English^ so long as he could
have obtained assistance from them against his internal ene-
mies. But the English would not assist him except with
money^ and^ indeed^ as time advanced^ it was more and
more apparent that the Douranee monarch could no nothing
to promote our interests j for things were righting them-
selves to the westward, and the alliances which we once
dreaded were found to be little more than idle menaces.
But whilst waiting thus at Peshawur, it appeared to the
young English Envoy that we might turn the existing rela-
tions between England and Caubul to profitable account, for
the future defence of our empire, by entering into a com-
pact for the cession of Shah Soojah's somewhat doubtfully
acquired Sindh provinces to the British Government in re-
turn forcertain money-payments. It was a spasm of youth-
ful diplomatic energy to which, doubtless, in his maturer
years, he did not look back with much satisfaction. The
suggestion was scouted at Calcutta. There was small
chance of a Government, of which Mr Edmonstone,*

♦ This is not by any means the first time in which I have referred
in this volume to Mr Edmonstone. But the more I study the history
of India, in the transactions of the first twenty years of the present
century, the more convinced I am that, among the many eminent
public servants who helped to build up the great Raj of the Com-
pany, he had not a superior and scarcely an equal. He was the
great political foreman of a succession of Governors -General. It was
his lot to be, ostensibly, little more than the mouthpiece of others.
Seen in official records, therefore, the merit of his best work belongs

i8o9.*J PROPOSED CESSION OF SINDH. 353

though only an irresponsible servant of the State, was, in
reality, the informing spirit, giving heed to such promptings
for a moment. Mr Elphinstone was rebuked for putting
forth such a proposal. But though an error, it was not an
unjustifiable one, and he wrote to Government a full ex-
planation of the motives which had prompted him to this
display of injudicious zeal. ' The expediency,* he wrote,
' of accepting of the cession of Sindh has clearly been re-
moved by the change which has taken place in the state of
affairs, and the consequent alteration of the views of Go-
vernment, and I have to beg the Right Honourable the
Governor-General's excuse for having at any time submitted
a plan founded on such imperfect information. I was in-
duced to do so by the consideration that the slowness of the
communication between Peshawur and Calcutta rendered
it necessary to lose no time in pointing out the disposition of
the Court of Caubul with respect to Sindh, and the advan-
tages which might be derived from it. I trust that the
following explanation will make it appear that the plan
which I proposed did not involve any step at all inconsistent
with the strictest principles of political morality. When I
had the honour to address to the Governor-General my
letter No. 12, I had not the same information respecting
the state of Europe which I now possess, and I was very
far from considering any event that had taken place in that
quarter of the globe as fatal to the French invasion of India.

to others ; and it is only by men who have access to those best
materials of history — the rough-hewings, as i\ were, of great measures,
traceable from their first inception to their final formal execution —
that the measure of his greatness can be justly estimated,
vou T. 23

354 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE, fxSoj.

I understood that the Chiefe of Sindh had given a cordial
welcome to an agent of France and Persia, while they had
received the British Envoy with coldness and distrust. I
had also received intelligence (which has proved to be
erroneous) that Mr Smith had arrived at Hyderabad, and
had been immediately dismissed. I had no doubt-that the
views of the Chiefe of Sindh were entirely repugnant to an
alliance, or anything like the terms proposed to them, and
I conceived the period to be fast approaching which had
been anticipated in the 67th and 68th paragraphs of your
despatch, when the submission of the Chiefs of Sindh to
the King of Persia would render it just and necessary for
our Government to assist in reducing them into complete
subjection to the King of Caubul. Considering an attack
on Sindh to be in the event of certain probable contingen-
cies determined, I addressed the Govemor-Greneral chiefly
with a view to show that it was more for the benefit of
both States that we should take Sindh for ourselves than
for the King of Caubul. Though my principal object was
to enumerate the advantages we should derive from the
possession of Sindh, I was aware that our obtaining them
depended on the conduct of the Chiefe of Sindh, and on
the facility with which we could occupy their country, if the
state of our relations with them rendered it necessary to at-
tack them ; but with these subjects I was unacquainted, and
was obliged to content myself with alluding to them, and
referring them to his Lordship's better information.' ' It
did not,' he continued, * fall within the range of this dis-
cussion to examine the King of Caubul's right to Sindh, and
from what 1 was in the habit of hearing daily, it did not

i8o9.] DEPARTURE FROM PESHA WUR, 355

occur to me to question his title. There seemed little or
no difference in point of form between the manner in
which the King held Sindh, and that in which he holds
the countries most subject to his control, nor is there any
real difference, except that he cannot remove the governor,
and that more of the revenue is withheld on false pretences
(of inundation, &c.) than in the other provinces. The King
does not appear ever to have renounced his right to the full
sovereignty of Sindh. His march in that direction last year
was, professedly, at least, for the purpose of settling the
province, and the reduction of Sindh is as commonly spoken
of as that of Cashmere. On the other hand^ I understood
the Chiefs of Sindh to acknowledge the King's sovereignty
in the fullest manner, and to pretend no right to the coun-
tries they govern, except what they derive from the King's
Rukkum. These facts would have rendered it necessary
for us to attend to the King of Caubul's claims in any
arrangement we might make for Sindh, but it was on the
supposed transfer of their allegiance to Persia that I con-
ceived our right of interference to he founded. I have said
so much on this subject because I am very anxious to show
the Govemor-Greneral that I did not intend to recommend
a wanton attack on Sindh for mere purposes of aggrand-
izement.*

He wrote this from Hussun- Abdul, in the Pui^b, on
his way back to the British Provinces. He had taken leave
of the Afghans a week or two before, and had distributee}
among them an amount of English money and money s
worth which made them look greedily for the coming of
another envoy, and caused them bkter disappointment wher

356 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE, [1810— n.

he came. But before his departure Elphinstone had nego-
tiated a treaty of friendship with the Shah, and had indeed
done all that it was requisite to do j for the dangers which
he had been sent to anticipate had disappeared by them-
selves. The King of Caubul undertook to prevent the pass-
age of the French and Persians through his kingdom, and
the English undertook to provide money for the purpose.
But so little fear was there of Persia becoming the vassal of
France and Russia, and helping those Powers to invade our
British dominions in the East, that the King of Kings had
already consented to a treaty, binding him 'not to permit
any European force whatever to pass through Persia, either
towards India or the ports of that country.'

But there were other results flowing from this embassy
than those of a diplomatic character. Though Mr Elphin-
stone had visited only the outskirts of what was then the
kingdom of Caubul, and, according to subsequent distribu-
tion of territory, did not enter Afghanistan at all, he con-
trived to acquire almost as much information relating to the
whole country and all classes of its inhabitants, as if he had
made the grand tour from Peshawur to Caubul, and from
Caubul to Candahar. He returned, indeed, laden with
literary spoils, and it is not to be doubted that the fruit was
well worth the cost of the gathering, large as was the expen-
diture upon it. The Government of the day grumbled — as
Governments and individuals are wont to gnunble in such
circumstances — when the bill was to be paid 5 but the
highest praise was bestowed upon Elphinstone, and the

i8io— II.] CALCUTTA AND BOMBA F. 35*

most liberal consideration shown to him, when he sought
an extension of time to make out his accounts and to com-
plete his reports. This work he performed at Calcutta,
where he remained throughout the year 181 o. But one of
the highest diplomatic appointments in the country was
waiting for him. He had been selected to fill the office of
Resident at Poonah; and at the beginning of i8ii he set
out to join it.

He took ship at Calcutta; and among his fellow-
voyagers was that young apostolic chaplain, Henry Martyn,
who was setting out on his journey to the Persian Gulf, and
to that bourne whence no traveller returns. Widely
different as were their lives, their characters, and their
objects, they were both men of a high order of intelligence,
and united by the common sympathies of genius. It is
easy to understand how, after a little while, they mutually
agreed between themselves to avoid certain debatable topics
of discourse, and to take for their themes such matters of
common interest as are never wanting when two highly-
cultivated minds are brought into contact with each other.
If Martyn learnt much from Elphinstone, we may be sure
that Elphinstone also learnt much from Martyn. When
they landed at Bombay, both were brought up for critical
judgment before the learned Recorder Mackintosh, who
was continually sitting in literary assize both on books and
on men. Malcolm was then at Bombay making out the
accounts of his last Persian Mission. He introduced
Elphinstone to Mackintosh, and Elphinstone introduced
Martyn.* When not interrupted by an incursion of
* Elphinstone made a very favourable impression on Mackintosh,

358 MOUNTSTUART ELFHINSTONE. [i8ii.

■ ■ ■ — ^^^^ »

' Vandals ' — or common-place, small-talk people — there
was much animated discourse at the breakfast-table^ or in
the evening, between those four — the soldier, the civilian,
the lawyer, and the priestr— which truly must have been
worth hearing.

These conversations, very pleasant as they were to
Elphinstone, doubtless caused him to congratulate himself
on the zeal with which he had cultivated literature a little
time before at Nagpore,* and stimulated him to fresh ac-

who wrote of him : * He has a very fine understanding, with the
greatest modesty and simplicity of character.*

♦ Ante^ p. 343. Some extracts from Elphinstone*s private
journals (which were not in my possession until after the preceding
sheet had passed through the press), illustrative of the studies of this
Nagpore period, may be given here : * April 2nd. Rose at foui.
Read "Antigone" with Jenkins. Walked on the verandah. Return-
ed to " Antigone," and read till half-past seven. I had not time to
finish my breakfast before Jesurunt Row came. He stayed till twelve.
Then read some of Page's History of the French Revolution, on
which I have been employed for these two days. Jenkins tiffed at
Close's, where I joined him. I stayed there some time, and read
some of Gibbon's Life, my old inspirer and guide. Read some more
of Page. He is a republican, and consequently hostile to the royalists,
and insensible to their sufferings, but not, on the whole, fiirious or
partial, as one would expect him to be. April 3rd. Rose at four. Read
'* Antigone." Rode out. Ran a jackal, but did not kill. Break-
fasted. Read thirty-six pages of the '* Memorabilia." Ate sand-
wiches. Wrote to Sydenham and Kennaway. Read Grotius. Went
out in the buggy. April 4. Read three hundred Hues of the " Anti-
golie." Break&sted. Put my papers in order. Set off in my palan-
quin for [ill^ble] Hall. On the way, finished Mackintosh. He is
eloquent and acute, but inexperienced and enthusiastic. Also read
some of Page. At the HaJl ordered repairs. Read an Idyll of
Theocritus, and Jenkins read aloud almost the whole fifth book of
Homer. At five rode back. Dined. In bed, read Locke on Liberty

i8n.] RESIDENT A T POONAff, 359

tivity of the same elevating kin<L When he left Bombay,
and was settled in the Poonah Residency, he very soon re-
newed his studies, and very much in the old direction.
Rising very early in the morning, he devoted the first hours
of the day to the perusal of some great work of ancient or
modern literature. His favourite languages were the Greek
and the Italian 5 the Greek dramatists being at that time,
perhaps, the authors in which he most delighted. Among
his journal entries for the year (i8ii) is the following :
'August 14. I spent a long time in reading new Edinburgh
and Quarterly Reviews, and have since read, with greater
admiration than ever. Bacon's Essays. I have just been
reading the " Hecuba ** of Euripides. It is, as far as I have
read, a noble production, rising at every step in dignity and
interest. I have scarcely ever seen a finer turn than that
when, after Hecuba has exhausted her eloquence in begging
for Poljrxena's life without success, and she tells her
daughter to make a last effort herself to seize Ulysses' hand,
and supplicate his mercy, Ulysses turns away, and hides
his hand in his garment, but Polyxena, in a speech ftill of
the sublimest sentiments, tells him not to be afraid, for she
is not going to ask for a life which she disdains. Ulysses is
too unfeeling, I think, for his character in Homer, and
perhaps the play itself would be more pleasing were he
more tender 5 but the effect of the speech I have just
mentioned would certainly be weakened, and it is worth

and Necessity. April 5th. Finished " Antigone." I perceive this
to be a very affecting play, though reading it in company does not
give it a very fair chance. We begin to read Sophocles with more
ease than we did Euripides.'

36o MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. Li8"— X4-

while sacrificing everything for it. The Chorus^ as usual^
is an encumbrance. It may sometimes fill the place of our
modem confidant to hear the principal characters confes-
sions^ or to soothe his agitation. It may sometimes make
those observations which are good for unconcerned specta-
tors, though unbecoming men transported by passion, and
which moderns are apt to throw into the mouth of the
principal actors j but, in general, it puts one in mind of the
Merryman at Astley's, who makes a speech after every feat
of the equestrians, to point out something of which you
have long before taken notice.* A few days afterwards he
wrote: 'I have finished "Hecuba." The interest dimin-
ishes after the death of Polyxena. The punishment of
Polymnester is barbarous and shocking, and his complaints
and ftuy are somewhat coarse and undignified. The senti-
ments and maxims throughout are too trite and obvious.*
And see the following, which, though relating to a later
period, may be given here, before I pass on to other things
of a more active character : 'June ij, 1814. I have read
a volume of the " Concilio Tridentino,'* and am pleased
with the impartiality and sagacity of my author, as well as
with the plainness of his style. . . . June 28th. I go on
idly, or at least like a man at perfect leisure. There is
little business at this moment, and my book is gone. I
walk about three hours every day, and to-day six hours^
planning or superintending improvements. I read Greek
two hours or more with Jeffreys, and the " Concilio Triden-
tino *' at all spare times. I find the doctrinal discussions
tedious and useless, and now either skip them or run over
them slightly. Besides the penetration which enables

i8i3— 14.] LITERARY PURSUITS, 361

Father Paul to unveil all the intngues to which the Council
gave rise, the impartiality which allows him to state them
without diminution or aggravation, I am particularly pleased
with the shrewd and sarcastic turn of many of his general
observations on human nature, and on the modifications of
the human character.' . . . ' August 8th. I have left off
Father Paul. I never intended to read all the discussions
about points of faith, and these seem to compose the whole
of the fiftJi and sixth volumes. All connection between the
Council and the politics of Europe is over before the end of
the fourth volume, and the Fra now declares his intention
of giving a diary of the debates of the Council. I do not
know what I shall read next. I am reading the third
volume of Madame de Stael ad interim, and the Greek
with Jeffreys goes on to my great improvement. My
former studies begin to tell, and I think four months* such
study as the present would enable me to read most books
in Greek with ease.*

From his correspondence at this time, no less than from
his journals, it may be gathered that he took as deep an
interest in the literature of the Eastern as of the Western
world, and that, whilst working strenuously on his owd
account, he could devote much time and attention to the
encouragement and promotion of the labours of others.
During his visit to Bombay, he had made the acquaintance
of Mr William Erskine, who had married one of Sir James
Mackintosh's daughters, and who held a legal appointment
under the Recorder. This gentleman was then preparing
his translation of the autobiography of the Emperor Baber,
and Elphinstone was exerting himself to obtain different

36a MOUNTUSTART ELPHINSTONE. [1813— 14.

manuscripts of the work at once authentic and complete.^
To Charles Metcalfe, then Resident at Delhi, he wrote on
the subject, saying : 'Poonah, June 28, 18 13. You and I
do not make very good correspondents, and though I write
oftenest, I cannot say much for the disinterestedness of my
exertions, as I never write but to ask a favour. At present
I have one to solicit about which I am very anxious. Mr
Erskine at Bombay is employed in translating the com-
mentaries of the Emperor Baber from a Persian translation
of that work, which is certainly the most curious and in-
teresting I ever met with in an Asiatic language. There
are, however, several gaps in the translation he has got,
and a complete copy in Turkish which I brought from
Peshawur was lost in consequence of poor Leyden*s death,t
so that Mr Erskine*s translation must remain incomplete
unless you can get us a complete copy of the translation at
Delhi, in which I apprehend you will meet with no diffi*

* This kindly disposition to aid others in their literary efibits
remained with him to the veiy close of his life. I have before me a
very remarkable proof of it, which may be mentioned here the more
appropriately as it is illustrative not only of Mr £lphinstone*s charac-
ter, but of the inunediate subject referred to in the text — the literary
career of Mr William Erskine. Shortly after the appearance^ in
1854, of Mr Erskine's posthumously published * History of the House
of Timour,' I wrote to Mr Elphinstone, asking him for some parti-
culars of the life of his former friend, which I wished to introduce
into a review I was then writing. After very little delay, Mr
Elphinstone sent me a letter of sixteen closely written pages, con;
taining the desired information iii full measure running over. Some
passages of this letter will be given at a subsequent stage of the nar-
rative.

t Leyden had written a Life of Baber.

1813—14.] LITERARY PURSUITS. 363

culty. The august representative of the house of Timour
must assuredly possess the commentaries of the most illustri-
ous of his ancestors^ and the founder of his empire 5 but if his
Highness should not be able to put his hand on the work,
some of the literati of Delhi will probably be able to pro-
duce it. It is called the 'Touzooki Bauberee/ and was
translated into Persian by the Khan Khanmaim, I believe,
in Acbar*s time (I mean, Acbar the First's). As you may
not be able to procure a complete copy, it is as well to let
you know the lacunce which we are anxious to fill up. The
first is immediately before Baber's expulsion fi'om his na-
tive country, where his last battle with Shybani Khan, and
its consequences, are wanting 5 the second is after Baber's
return from Herat to Caubul, where there is a gap of ten
years. I dare say Stuart — to whom I beg to be kindly re-
membered— ^will be able to give you great assistance in this
search, and his literary zeal will certainly dispose him to
afford it. I intended to have written to him, but as all I
have to say about Baber must have been a mere repetition
of the contents of this letter, your showing him it will do
as well. I suppose, by this time, Futteh Khan has got
Attock, and made peace with the Sugs 5 he shows a great
deal of spirit, and of the sort of talent that is wanted in his
country. If he were a Suddozye, he would make a capital
king, and soon restore the Douranee power 5 as it is, I am
afraid the Govemment wants stability. I beg you to ofier
his Majesty respectfiil assurances of the Peishwah's loyalty
and fidelity.* 'Poonah, Sept. 16, 18 13. I am very much
obliged to you for getting me Baber. Send him to me by
dawk, vid Dick Strachey, who will take good care of him.

364 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE, [1813— 14.

Let me know the cost, and also the amount of the allow-
ance I begged you to make to Izzut Oollah's brother for his
labours. Close desires his best regards.' ' Poonah, October
30, 1 8 13. Notwithstanding the unfortimate agreement be-
tween your copies of Baber and ours, I must beg you to
send them, as they will be useful for collation, and to settle
doubts about names, &c. I must impose a fresh task on
you, which I hope your hterary zeal will make you excuse.
It is to obtain through Izzut Oollah a Turkish copy of
Baber. It may be had at Peshawur, or certainly at Bok-
hara. If he could add the Chaghatai dictionary of Meer
Ali Beg, or any other Chaghatai dictionary, it would be a
great point. I enclose a letter to him on the subject, but I
must beg you to add the weight of your recommendation.
Jenkins leaves to-morrow for Nagpore, to my great regret.
He has improved both in learning and wisdom, and has
suffered very little by his long solitude. He desires his
love to you. I am really sorry to hear of your being so
fatigued with Adawlut 5 why do you not devolve it on
your assistants ? You must soon, for I suppose now Lord
Moira is come, lamenting that so little is left for him to do,
he will not fail to do what there is, and he will probably
find more work than he is aware of. In that case, there
will be enterprise of great pith and moment for you in
your own line. I hear you are the most magnificent of all
the vain-glorious tribe of Residents. I should like to see
your grandeurs. I wish you could see mine : a tiled palace
on wooden posts twelve feet high 3 two chobdars and two
hurkaras 3 six plated dishes 3 six dozen silver spoons 3 two
little union flags carried by the gardeners on high days or

1 3 13— 14-] INTEREST IN HOME POLITICS. 365

holidays j but, after all, this place is delightful, the climate
and scenery are pleasant, and the business not much other-
wise, in spite of the excessive villany of the people. See
my despatches, passim, I beg you to secure me a cordon
of the Order of the Fish when it is instituted/

But other subjects than these engrossed his mind and
directed his pen. His interests and sympathies were mani-
fold, and ranged over a large space." Not only, at this time,
was he imhiersed in the politics of India, but his thoughts
often travelled to England, and the strife of parties at home
excited him in the Mahratta capital. He had left England
as a mere boy 5 he had been seventeen years in India ^
communication between the two countries was at that time
slow and irregular 5 but he seems to have had a remarkably
keen insight into the state of parliamentary and public feel-
ing in Great Britain, and to have entered into political
questions with as much zeal as if he had been frequenting
the clubs of Pall Mall and St James's. In the following
letter to Mr Metcalfe, in which, afler briefly touching on
the state of the country around him, he suddenly plunges
into home politics, there is an interesting exposition of his
views : ' Poonah, September 16, 1813. Many thanks for
your letter of the 14th, which reached me yesterday. The
troubles in which we are involved by our petty allies in
your neighbourhood are the consequence of our not having
completed the system of defensive alliance. If we had
gone through with that measure, and had every state on
the left bank of the Chumbul connected with us, we could
only have been disturbed by some convulsion, such as could
scarcely have happened under the circumstances in which

366 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [1813—14

we should have been placed 5 but> as things are^ it is a
wonder to me that we have any quiet at all, or that any
peace is maintained among the friends, enemies, and neu-
trals whom we have so ingeniously assembled together at
our own door. The Ministers will, I fancy, defeat the
Company on the question about the outports, in which,
perhaps, it is well the Company should be defeated. The
contest is lucky, as it will draw attention to Indian affairs.
I do not agree with you in wishing John Company at the
devil. Things do not go on ill now, and under the King I
cannot but suppose they would go on abominably. Parlia-
ment would not be much check on the Ministers, for Par-
liament despises India, so much as to grudge the trouble of
buUjring John Company (who shakes in his shoes when-
ever he is spoken to), and would never dream of quarrelling
with a Ministry about a few millions of black rascals who
have no votes. Only observe the different treatment which
the interests of this Empire and those of Falmouth receive
from Parliament. When the charter was about to expire,
the Ministers agreed very well with the Directors, and no
words passed about the seventy or eighty millions of Indians
whose fate was to depend on the decision of the British
Grovemment 5 but half a score of mendicants in half a dozen
seaport towns found out that the same decision would make
some difference in their profits, and in a moment all England
is in an uproar. The Ministers change their tone to the
Directors, the Directors break off with the Ministers, and
perhaps the destinies of Asia are about to be altered to ac-
commodate a few traders at the outports. This is a di-
gression from my subject, which was an opinion that there

i8i3— 14.J HOME POUTICS. 367

would be less control over the administration of India^ if
under the Ministers, than there is now. I think the con-
sequence would be enoVmous abuses. The revenue of this
country would be looked on as ^vast mass of droits of the
Admiralty, of treasure to be spent without being accounted
for J and the service would be a snug hole into which every-
thing that was too disgusting to be seen at home might be
thrust. Supposing things not to be so bad as I have made
them, you cannot suppose that the Prince and the Ministers
would attempt less in India, where they would not be op-
posed, than in England, where they are sure of a contest.
Lord Yarmouth would then make an excellent Governor-
General, and Colonel Macmahon would do well for Ma-
dras j Dr Dingenan would, perhaps, condescend (after the
anti-Catholic war was over) to take a seat in the Council
of Fort William, and GJeorge Hanger, if he is alive, might
be put beyond the reach of the Military Commission, by
superseding an obscure wretch, who never was at Carlton
House, in the Residency with the Great Mogul, and in the
expected honours of the Fish. As to foreign policy, the
Company's servants have conquered India, while the King's
have been losing America, and all but losing Ireland, I do
not mean all this so much for a defence of the Company
as for an attack on the Government at home, which is al-
most always bad, and which is only prevented ruining us by
the democratic part of the constitution in which India would
have no share. I intended to tell you a great deal (while
waiting for a Mahratta writer) about Jenkins, who left me
this morning for Bombay 5 but I have got into a long dis-
quisition 9n politics, and here is the writer come. I can

368 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE, [1813— x^

only say that Jenkins is greatly matured and improved,
without having caught any native habits in his long seclu-
sion from £uropean society.* *

This was, perhaps, the pleasantest period of Mountstuart
£lphinstone*s Indian service. He had enough official work
to do to keep up an unflagging interest in it, and yet to
leave him time for other pursuits invigorating alike to mind
and body. ' The contiguity of the country under Bombay,*
he wrote, at the end of a long letter to Metcalfe, detailing
the nature of his Residency work, 'occasions correspondence
with that Presidency, as the same cause sometimes does
with Madras, and often with Hyderabad 5 and these, and
numerous little things too trifling to mention, make up my
employment. They leave me a good deal of leisure 5 and
as this climate is delightful, and there is good hog-himting
in reach, I like it better than any station I have seen.* At

♦ The references in this letter are to the discussions which pre-
ceded the renewal of the Compan/s Charter in 1813. Much that is
said about the scandalous disregard of the true interests of the people
of India is, I fear, only too applicable to the state of things at the
present time. The condemnation, however, was perhaps a Uttle
too sweeping, for there were some men in Parliament who stood up
for the rights and interests of the people. Prominent among the few
was Charles Grant the younger — afterwards Lord Glenelg — ^who, in
the spring of 181 3, concluded an eloquent speech on our duties to the
natives of the country, by saying : * On their behalf, in their name, I
venture to address myself to the House. Through me they give
utterance to their prayers. It is not my voice which you hear, it is
the voice of sixty millions of your fellow-creatures abandoned to your
disposal and imploring your commiseration. They conjure you by
every sacred consideration to compassionate their condition, to pay
due regard to their situation — ^to remember what contingencies are
suspended on the issue of your vote,' &c. &c. &c.

I8i3— 14-] AUTHORSHIP, 369

this time the pleasant labours of authorship came as a vanety
and a relief to his other more active work. It has beei>-
seen how ready he was to help others in their literary in-
cubations 5 it is time now to speak of his own.

During his residence at Calcutta, Elphinstone had

brought together and arranged the valuable information he

had collected relating to the countries which he had visited

beyond the Indus, and those still farther to the northward,

which he had never reached. But he had intended, in the

first instance, that this information should take the shape

only of a report to Government 5 and it was not until Sir

James Mackintosh stimulated him to seek a larger audience

and to give the public the benefit of his labours, that he

began even to meditate on the possibility of publishing a

book of travels. He had by no means made up his mind

on the subject, when he quitted Bombay and made his way

to the Mahratta capital, taking with him a promise from

Malcolm to pay him an early visit. In May, the promise

was redeemed. In spite of the hot weather, the two friends,

in whom at that time the enthusiasm of the sportsman

glowed with equal heat, gave themselves up rather to hard

riding and fierce boar-hunting than to literary pursuits. In

truth, they had both of them pored too long over their

papers, and were fain to brush away the cobwebs in the

jungle. It was not tiU some time after Malcolm had left

him, that he began seriously to consider the question of

publication^ and then he said that his appearance as ar

author would depend much upon the extent of countrv

which Malcolm intended to embrace in the great work upon

Persia which he was then preparing for the press. ' It is
VOL. I. 24

370 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE, [1814—15

necessary,' he wrote, ' that I should know with some pre-
cision what you intend to do, or I shall spoil your work
and waste my trouble (and no small trouble it is writing
quires of paper, let alone writing for the public), while I
might be hunting, hawking, reading, and doing my business
with much more profit both to myself and the public, even
if I did not take in hand the account of India, which you
so fully convinced me was required.' Malcolm's answer
was satisfactory. He purposed to confine his inquiries to
Persia ; so Elphinstone sat himself down at Poonah to write
an account of the ' Kingdom of Caubul.'

He wrote very carefully and conscientiously, for he was
one not easily pleased, and sometimes he was so little satis-
fied with his work that he felt inclined altogether to abandon
his project. He was encouraged, however, by one or two
of his correspondents 5 especially by Mr Jenkins, who then
represented British interests at Nagpore, and to whom the
historian from time to time submitted portions of his manu-
script, courting the critical revisions of his firiend. Jenkins,
it would seem, had even a severer distaste for anything like
diffuseness and redundancy than Elphinstone, and used the
pruning-knife with an unsparing hand. ' I am once more
at my eternal book,' wrote Elphinstone to Jenkins, in 18 14,
' correcting the duplicate for despatch to England. I see
the benefit of your cutting, and am very thankful for the
zeal with which you performed that uninviting duty. It
is something like a real amputation, where the surgeon has
a tedious and disagreeable task, and for the time gets no
thanks from the patient.' At last the 'book was finished
and sent home 5 and the great pubHshing house of Longman

l8i5— x6.} UTEKARY SUCCESS. 371

and Co. undertook to produce it. And they brought it out
in becoming style, as books were brought out in those days
— 2i magnificent quarto, with an elaborate map and coloured
engravings, published at a price which would now be suffi-
cient to scare away most purchasers.* It was an undoubted
success. It made Mr Elphinstone*s literary reputation 5
and it is still, after a lapse of fifty years, consulted with un-
diminished interest and advantage by all who seek inft)rm-
ation relating to the countries which it so well describes.

At that time, the patience of Indian authors was severely
tried by the tardiness and uncertainty of communication
with England. The interval between the despatch of the
manuscript and the arrival of the printed book was so great,
that a writer had almost forgotten his work before it came
back to him in type. Mr Elphinstone's case was no ex-
ception to the rule. He had almost begun to think that
he should never hear of his book again, when he received
from England tidings to the effect that it had been pub-
lished, that it had been reviewed, and had become the talk
of London and Edinburgh. This revived his spirits, and
he wrote with all the enthusiasm of a youug author, in the
first flush of his fame, ta communic^e his good fortune to
the friend who had taken so much interest in the progress
of his work. 'My immediate object^.* he wrote t© Mr
Jenkins, in May, 181 6, *^is ta tell you of the success of my
Travels, in which I am sure you will take as much interest
as myself. • My letter must in consequence be a mere coUec-

♦ It is entitled * An Account of the Kingdom of Caubul and its
Dependencies in Persia, Tartary, and India.' It bears date 1 815. It
has since been republished in 2 vols. 8vo.

372 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE, [1816—17.

tion of puffs of my own works, for which this is all the
apology you are to expect. First, the Edinburgh Review —
[It is Sir James Mackintosh, a partial friend, and writing
with the professed design of encouraging the Indians^ but
still it cannot be totally false and delusive] : '* The style of
Mr E. is, in our opinion, very good. It is clear, precise,
significant, manly, often nervous, always perfectly unaffected,
severely guarded against every tendency to Oriental inflation
[^toium munere hoc tuum est], quite exempt from that
verbosity and expansion which are the sins that most easily
beset our ingenious countrymen in the East.** . . .Lady
Wood writes from Edinburgh that "the reputation and
success of Cauhul astounded her ears on all sides, &c.
The Man of Feeling (Henry Mackenzie) had been to see
her on the evening before, and talked of the noise he had
heard of this book, and his desire to see it (it had then been
out above three weeks)." * Other evidences of the interest
which the work had excited and the praises it had elicited
are given, and then Elphinstone says : ' Malcolm corrobor-
ates all these stories, and says that he was at Oxford when
the review came there, and that the hakims [wise men]
were even more struck with the extracts dian with the
review. Now,* he continued, ' as I am sure that you will
be glad to hear all this, I tell it to you at the risk of appear-
ing vain and foolish j but though I tell it to you, I do not
tell it to all the world 5 and I beg you to consider well to
what persons you whisper the secret that Midas has ass*s ears.
My conclusion is that the book has answered much above
my expectations, which you remember were sufficiently.

i8i6— 17.] THE CRISIS A T POONAH, 373

moderator and that the great reasons are the novelty of the
subject and the plainness of the work.'

But the time was now approaching when he was to ' have
a rougher task in hand/ and to face more dangerous ene-
mies than the critics of London and Edinburgh. Lord
Minto had been succeeded in the government of India by
Lord Moira, better known to Indian history by his sub-
sequent title of the Marquis of Hastings. The new Gro-
vernor-General had taken up the reins in a critical period of
our history, and there was plainly much work to be done
of the most active and stirring character. Ten years had
passed since, under an alarming financial pressure, an un-
satisfactory peace had been patched up with the Mahratta
powers. It was a conclusion where nothing was concluded,
a settlement where nothing was settled. And much of
our work had now to be done over again. But before the
great game was to be played in Central India, the Nepaul-
ese, according to Lord Moira*s programme, were to be
fought and conquered. Some of our leading Indian states-
men at that time, including Elphinstone and Metcalfe,
thought that it would have been wiser to have settled the
Central Indian question first. ' We ought,' wrote the former
to Mr Jenkins, in February, 18 15, 'to have settled the
centre of India before we began with the Goorkhas.' ' The
grand and irreparable mistake,* he added, 'was Barlow's
peace. Scindiah and Holkar had engaged us with regular
armies, they were beaten to the ground, and we had only
to impose such terms as should keep them quiet for the
fiiture, instead of which we left them entire to profit by

374 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [18x6-17.

their experience. Accordingly, they have employed ten
years in adopting a system of war better suited to their cir-
cumstances^ and we must have another and perhaps a longer
tussle, before we get them down again. I should hope
Scindiah would stay quiet at present, and let us station a
force in Bhopaul, after which we must lie on our oars^ and
not complete the confederation of the Nerbuddah until we
have more leisure. When we once begin in earnest on the
protection of the Peishwah's country in that neighbourhood,
I think we must have a war with Scindiah 5 and even if we
avoid that, we must one day have a Pindarree hunt, which
is the same thing.* And then he added, with one of those
rapid transitions from politics to literature which are so
charmingly frequent in his letters, ' I wish your work were
done before that time comes. Pottinger*s has gone home
on a ship that sailed yesterday.^ ... I wish I had mine
back again, but as I cannot, I trust to the divine enemy.
Stick to the method of Tacitus.'

It is beyond the scope of such a personal narrative as
this to enter minutely into the complicated history of Mah-
ratta politics at that time. The situation was well described
by Metcalfe, in a few sentences, when he said : ' There is
Runjeet Singh looking eagerly on from the north-west.

♦ The works to which reference is here made are Lieutenant
(afterwards Sir Henry) Pottinger*s * Account of Bdoochistan,* and
Mr Jenkins's * Report on Nagpore.' The latter, m which Mr Elphin-
stone took great interest, and which had the benefit of his revision,
never appealed to the public jmd the critics, but, printed in an
official shape, it has had many diligent students, and has ever been
highly appreciated as one of the best Indian monographs in
existence.

1816-17.] MAHRATTA POLITICS. 375

There is Meer Khan within a few marches of the Agra and
Delhi frontiers. There are Scindiah and the Rajah of Be-
rar settling whether they shall attack us or not 5 and thus
virtually menacing our frontier from Agra down to Cut-
tack. There are the Pindarrees ready to pour themselves
into every defenceless country.* It has already been told
that these lawless depredators were the enemies with whom,
in the general interests of peace and order, it was our first
business to contend ; * and as soon as the conclusion of the
Nepaul war afforded the means of organizing a large force
for operations in Central India, the orders were given, the
grand army was collected, and the Governor-Greneral, who
was also Commander-in-Chief, placed himself at its head.
Although the primary and ostensible object of the assem-
bling of the force was the extirpation of these hordes of free-
booters, it seemed from the first to be more than probable
that a war with the substantive Mahratta States would fol-
low these first movements. The Mahrattas, indeed, were
convinced that this was our design ; and, as the Princes and
Chiefs of India are more frequently driven into hostility by
their fears than by their resentments, there could be little
doubt as to the ultimate result.

But the exact shape that the conflict might take was
long doubtful. It had been the policy of the British Go-
vernment to support the Peishwah against the lesser chief-
tains who threatened his authority 5 and it would still have
been our policy, if the man himself had been worthy of our
confidence. But he was essentially a weak Prince, and, in
his weakness, suspicious on the one hand and treacherous

* Ante, Memoir of Sir John Malcolm, p. 282,

376 MOUNTS TUAR T ELPHINS TONE, [i8x6->Z7.

on the other. He had more than the ordinary amount of
Mahratta guile, and less than the wonted Mahratta coiu^ge.
From the first, the insincerity of his character had been
clear. ' This Badjee Rao will never do ! * had been the
dictum of Sir Arthur Wellesley more than ten years before 5
and it was now the dictum of Mr Elphinstone. Like other
Princes, equally vicious and weak, he had thrown himself
into the hands of a Minister who was vicious but not weak
— a man named Trimbuckjee, who gained an ascendancy
over the Peishwah by professing extreme subserviency to
him, and declaring that he would commit any atrocity at
his master's bidding, including, if so called upon, the great
sacrilegious iniquity of killing a cow. In course of time, he
proved his sincerity by committing a crime only one degree
lower in the Hindoo scale — ^he murdered a Brahmin. It
was a political no less than a religious offence, for the Brah-
min was an ambassador from the Guicowar of Baroda. He
had offended the Peishwah, so Trimbuckjee caused him to
be assassinated in the public streets. This story has often
been told before, and need not be related in detail. It was
the bloody prologue to other great tragedies, ending in the
downfall of the throne of Poonah. From that time the ex-
tinction of the power of the Peishwah became only a ques-
tion of time.

When intelligence of this prodigious outrage reached
Mr Elphinstone, he addressed an earnest and dignified re-
monstrance to Badjee Rao, and called upon him at once to
apprehend the Minister, and cause him to be placed in con-
finement until his Highness and the Governor-Greneral
could have an opportunity of consulting on the subject. 'A

i8i6— i7.j CONDUCT OF THE PEISHWAH, 377

foreign ambassador/ he said, ' has been murdered in the
midst of your Highness' s Court. A Brahmin has been
massacred almost in the temple, during one of the greatest
solemnities of your religion, and I must not conceal from
your Highness the impunity of the perpetrators of this enor-
mity has led to imputations not to be thought of against
your Highness*s Government. Nobody is more convinced
of the falsehood of such insinuations than I am 5 but I think
it my duty to state them, that your Highness may see the
necessity of refuting calumnies so injurious to your reputa-
tion. I beg you also to observe, that while Trimbuckjee
remains at large, his situation enables him to commit fur-
ther acts of rashness, which he may undertake on purpose
to embroil your Highness with the British Grovemment.
He is at the head of the administration at Poonah, and has
troops at his command 5 he is Hkewise in charge of your
Highnesses districts, which are contiguous to the possessions
of the British Government, and of the Nizam and the
Gaekwar 5 and, even though he should raise no public dis-
turbance there, I cannot but consider with uneasiness and
apprehension in what manner your Highness's affairs will
be conducted. For these reasons, it is absolutely necessary
that immediate steps should be taken, as your Highness will
be held responsible by the Governor-Greneral for any acts of
violence which Trimbuckjee may commit after this intima-
tion. 1 therefore again call on your Highness to adopt the
course which I have pointed out to you, as the only one
which can restore confidence to the public ministers de-
puted to your Court.*

Reluctant as he was to surrender his favourite, Badjee

378 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. 1816-17.

Rao was, after a while, awed into submission. Trimbuck-
jee was given up, and confined in the fortress of Tanna, on
the island of Salsette. But his captivity was not of long
duration. A Mahratta groom, in the service of the £nglish
commandant, contrived to effect his release. One morning,
groom and prisoner were absent from their places, and pur-
suit was in vain. It was suspected that Trimbuckjee had
made his way straight to his master's presence, and that
for some time he was concealed in the private recesses of
the palace. Such privacy, however, was not long endur-
able by one of his restless, intriguing nature, and his im-
placable hostility to the British. As the year advanced,
there were evidences of his activity abroad in the unsettled
state of the country around Poonah. First from one point*
then from another, there came tidings of the gathering of
armed men, which the Peishwah either wholly denied, or
declared to be harmless and unmeaning. Mr Elphinstone,
however, was not a man to be deceived by such assurances
as these. He knew that Badjee Rao was hastening to de-
struction j that the final rupture, which was to cost him his
throne, was now only a question of time. Seldom, indeed,
had a Minister at a foreign Court, either in the Eastern or
the Western world, a more difficult part to play than that
which now devolved upon Mr Elphinstone. Of the
treachery of the Peishwah there was no doubt. Not only
was he most unmistakably sanctioning, if not actually or-
daining, the hostile gatherings which were keeping the
country in a state of excitement, but he was endeavouring
to corrupt the fidelity of our British Sepoys, and of all the
people employed at the Residency. There was an immense

i8i6— 17.] TREACHERY OF THE PEISHWAH, 379

amount of money in the Peishwah*s territory, and he used
it freely for the bribery of our people. He flew at high
game, for he tried even to purchase the services or the in-
formation of European officers. But Elphinstone knew
well what he was doing 3 and, though he betrayed no symp-
tom of suspicion, he was so thoroughly acquainted with
what, was going on in the Palace, that Badjee Rao after-
wards told Sir John Malcolm that the Resident knew every
day precisely what he had for dinner.

So, all through the year 181 6 and the early part of 181 7,
it was hard to say whether it was Peace or War between
the Peishwah and the English Government as represented
by Mountstuart Elphinstone. It was an occasion that de-
manded the utmost vigilance on the part of the Resident,
and that great union of caution and courage which is only
to be found in minds of the highest order. It would be
impossible, I think, to speak in exaggerated language of
praise of the great qualities which Elphinstone exhibited at
this time in the midst of almost unprecedented difficulties.
It was his duty to imbue himself with the policy of the
Grovernment, and whether he thought that policy were
right or wrong, to work it out to the utmost of his power.
Both Elphinstone and Metcalfe thought that it would have
been wiser not to defer so long the settlement of accounts
with the Mahratta chiefs. But as Lord Hastings and his
Government had otherwise determined, Elphinstone resolved
to do all in his power to stave off as long as possible the
inevitable collision with the Peishwali whilst there was
other work in hand to engage the attention and to absorb
the resources of the State,

38o MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [1816—17.

But day after day he expected that the hour ^would
arrive when it would be possible to temporize no longer.
Hew difficult it was to avert the final resort to arms may
be gathered fi*om the following story, told by Greneral John
Briggs, who at that time was one of the assistants to the
Resident : * ' One night, after a day that had been passed in
considerable anxiety, owing to reports of troops brought
into the town, I received certain information that the cattle
for the guns had been sent for, and had arrived an hour be-
fore, that the artillery were drawn up in fi-ont of the park,
that the streets were fiill of mounted men, and that the
Peishwah was in full durbar discussing with his chie& the
subject of immediate war. I hastened to inform Mr El-
phinstone, whom I found sitting in a large tent, engaged in
playing a round game of cards with a party, among whom
were several ladies. He saw me enter, and observed my
anxiety to speak to him, but he continued his game as usual
for half an hour, when after handing the last lady of the
party into her palanquin, he came up to me rubbing his
hands, and said, '^Well, what is it?** I told him the
news, which he received with great sang firoid, and we walk-
ed together to the Residency office. There we encountered
the European Commandant of the Contingent, above
alluded to, on which Mr Elphinstone asked him the latest
news from the city. He appeared not to be aware of what

* This anecdote is a contribution to Sir Edward Colebrooke's
excellent Memoir. There are few writers of Indian history or bio-
graphy, in the present day, who are not greatly indebted to General
Briggs for the valuable and interesting information which he has
afforded them ; and perhaps no one in a greater d^n^e than mjrsdfl

i8i7.] THE CRISIS AT FOONAH, 381

was in progress, but observed that the Minister, whom he
had just left, had told him that the Peishwah had discharged
some of the troops lately enlisted, and that all was quiet.
Mr Elphinstone then called on me to state what I had
heard, and distinctly told the Commandant that he did not
believe a word that he said. The. latter said that his in-
formation was from the Minister himself , and that as to the
troops in the streets, he did not observe any beyond the
usual patrols, and knew nothing about the arrival of gun-
bullocks. The moment was critical; the Residency was
incapable of being properly defended, especially by the or-
dinary escort, and the idea of attacking the Peishwah at
once from the cantonment, though hastily expressed, was
subsequently abandoned. Mr Elphinstone resolved to defer
doing anything until the morning, and then to take such
precautionary measures as he might deem proper. I be-
lieve that neither I nor he had much sleep during that anx-
ious night. The night fortunately passed quietly, owing,
as was said, to the opposition to war evinced by some of the
Ministers. Badjee Rao was physically an arrant coward ;
he had always displayed this weakness, and was not ashamed
to avow it. No steps were, therefore, taken by either
party during the night, but in the morning a requisition
for a re-inforcement was made, and two guns accompanied
it to the Residency.*

On the 17th of October, Elphinstone wrote to his
friend Richard Jenkins, at Nagpore, saying : * I suppose
that you are very busy, being so near the scene of action.
Are your Mahratta Ministers as intriguing, prevaricating,
shuffling, lying, cavilling, grumbling, irritating a set of

38a MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [1817

rascals as mine are here ? If I recollect them right, they
are not. I think Jeswunt Rao and the rest had some little
candour when they were in the right, and some little sense
of shame when they were in the wrong, of which there is
no trace here. Certainly your sweeping judgment during
the last troubles would have been safer in the end than the
more moderate course adopted, and not less just.* A
fortnight later, it was evident that the anticipated rupture
had become a question of hours. Appearances were more
and more threatening. The enemy were swarming around
the English position, waiting for a signal to throw off the
mask. The story may best be told in Mr £lphinstone*s
own words. On the 30th of October he wrote privately
to Captain Agnew, who was an assistant to Sir John
Malcolm, and at that time representing his superior with
the force under Sir Thomas Hislop: 'To prevent your
hearing false reports of what has been going on here, I
write to you in this form, without waiting to make out an
official despatch. You know how the Peishwah has been
going on lately, and you also know that I wished to keep
everything back as much as possible, for fear of interfering
with oiu* negotiations at Gwalior by any appearance of a rup-
ture here. This led me to allow the Peishwah to assemble
his troops, which he has done with a degree of celerity
that I did not think he could have displayed. I also
allowed them to occupy their usual stations, none of which
were close to our camp, and though of no consequence
while the parties were small, became very threatening in
the present state of the Peishwah's army. In spite of all
my forbearance, however, the Peishwah's preparations threw

i8i7.] THE CRISIS A T BOON AH. 383

the whole country into a ferment. Poonah began to be
deserted, and there was an universal opinion that we were
speedily to be attacked. During all this time I was watch-
ing the Peishwah*s intrigues with the Sepoys, and about
the 27th I found them going on with increased boldness,
and repeated offers were also made to several of our de-
pendents to join against us, and a large sum of money, with
a quantity of shawls, &c., were sent into camp in the night.
The Peishwah*s troops began to hold themselves in readi-
ness, and it appeared that they were about to execute the
plan attributed to them in their dealings with the Sepoys
— to attack or overawe our camp so as to enable their
partisans to come over and induce those who hesitated to
join them. Independently of all temporary circumstances,
you must know, by the reports that have been made, the
wretched position occupied by our brigade among trees
and enclosures close to the town. This, combined with
the security which we were obliged to affect for the purpose
of keeping off a crisis, put it in the Peishwah's power, if he
had the spirit, to surprise our camp any night he pleased,
and, even if there were no disaffection, to throw us into
irrecoverable confusion. The time, however, was limited j
for the Bombay European Regiment was on its march
here, and, if allowed to come on as quickly as at first
intended, would be here on the ist or and. It could not
be hurried on without disclosing our suspicions 5 so that it
seemed more than probable, both from the reason of the
thing and from the Peishwah's proceedings, that if ever he
did anything he would endeavour to strike a blow before
the regiment arrived. On considering all these circum-

384 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE, [1817,

Stances, I thought it best to put the brigade in a posture
of defence, which, besides the direct advantage of being on
our guard, gave us that of bringing the Peishwah's plots to
a crisis at a time when he was not perhaps prepared, and
freed us from the appearance of timidity produced by our
dissembling the knowledge of proceedings which were the
talk of the whole country. I therefore wrote to the
European regiment to come on as fast as possible, without
regard to anything except the health of the men; and I
likewise begged Colonel Burr (who commands here) to
keep his men within the lines, and to remove some great
defects in the state of our ammunition and provisions. At
the same time, I sent to the Peishwah to say that mere
military principles required our officers to be on their
guard when closely contiguous to another army; that I
had therefore authorized them to take the requisite steps,
but that I had no suspicion of the Peishwah; and as there
were no discussions pending between the Grovemments, he
had nothing to do but remain quiet, and everything would
go on as smoothly as ever. This created no great sensation
at the time, except affected indignation at being suspected \
but as soon as it was dark the whole army got under arms,
and I really thought that we should have had a breeze.
All, however, is now quiet (at ten a.m.), I expect the
European regiment in this afternoon, and shall then
encamp the whole brigade at Khirkee — a good position,
out of the reach of surprise, and not easily accessible to
the agents of corruption. I shall then have nothing to
think of but soothing the Peishwah. I shall take the
greatest care to keep the matter of the seduction of

i8i7.] THE CRISIS AT POONAH. 3*5

the Sepoys secret, I do not think it can have gone far.'

In another letter, written to Lord Hastings on the 7th

of November, the story is continued : ' In pursuance of the

system of confidence which seemed necessary to make the

Peishwah a useful ally, and even to prevent our enemies

fi-om calculating on his assistance, I had allowed his troops

to occupy their usual stations round our cantonments.

* • . , . His Highness had always strongly opposed the

movement of our cantonments The moment of

our removal would, therefore, in all probability, be the one

in which his Highness would proceed to carry his plans into

execution This consideration, and a wish to assist

our negotiations in Hindostan by keeping off to the last a

rupture with the Peishwah, induced me to postpone the

removal of the cantonment till the arrival of the Bombay

European Regiment, which was expected on the 2nd of

November There was, indeed, every indication

of an intention on the Peishwah*s part to attack it before

it should be joined by the European regiment

His preparations were now too open to be explained away,

even if Scindiah should enter into our views ^ and the expense

of them was too great for him to support for any length

of time. He became bolder in his intrigues both with our

Sepoys and dependents, and I received information of his

sending fifty thousand rupees and some dresses of linen into

our camp on the night of the 27th, as if on the conclusion

of a bargain In consequence of this state ^yf

things, I wrote on the 29th to Lieutenant-Colonel Wilson,

commanding the European regiment, to hasten his march,

so as to ainve on the 30th, and I requested Colonel Burr
VOL. I. 25

386 MOUNTSTUART ELPHiNSTONE. [18174

to keep the brigade on the alert. At the. same time, I sent
a message to the Peishwah, representing what I did as a
mere mUitary arrangement, adopted (as was the case) at
the instance of the commanding officer, intended solely to
maintain that state of security which is essential to disci-
plined troops in the immediate neighbourhood of another
army, and unconnected with any design against him.

On the ist the brigade moved to its new grounds

The Peishwah sent a message to me on the night of the
31st, to request it might be allowed to remain for a time
at least, to which I replied by reminding his Highness that
the brigade was moving by orders from Sir Thomas EQslop^
but I said that, if his Highness was anxious that it should
hereafter return, I would communicate his wish to his
Excellency/

After the removal of the British cantonments, the de-
meanour of the Peishwah's troops became. more and more
insolent and aggressive ; * the cantonments were plundered
without obstruction from the Peishwah 's Government, and
'an officer on the road to Bombay was also attacked,
wounded, and plundered in open day, about two miles

♦ The movement was believed, or at least declared, to be, of the
nature of a flight. Mr Elphinstone, writing a few da3rs afterwards,
said : * On the arrival of the Bombay European Regiment, I moved
the cantonment to this delightful position (Khirkee), and felt quite
relieved when I saw it established here ; but the impression made in
town, and diligently encouraged by Gokla, was, that the Feringhees
had fled before the invincible arms of Sreemunt, and would be soon
clear out of the country. These feelings were shown with great inso-
lence ; our cantonments were plundered, a gentleman was wounded
and robbed of his horse at Gunesh Kind, and it became unsafe for an
officer to ride even between our old camp and our new.'

x8i7.] AT KHIRKEE. 387

from Bombay.* Greneral Smith, anticipating a rupture with
the Peishwah, had concentrated his forces at Phool-tamba,
recalling his detachments from the Ghauts. * He likewise/
says Mr Elphinstone, ' ordered the light battalion, which
was on its route to join him, to return to Seroor. . . .
I wrote on the day before yesterday (the 4th) to order
the light battalion and one thousand of the auxihary horse
that were at Seroor to march to Poonah.' The Peishwah
said that 'he had heard of the approach of Greneral Smith,
and the near arrival of the battalion from Seroor 3 that this
was the third time we had assembled troops at Poonah,
and he was determined to bring things to an early settle-
ment.* The Peishwah deputed Wiltojee Naik, one of his
immediate servants, to make certain demands upon the
British Resident for the removal of the cantonments, for
the dismissal of the European regiment, and for the reduc-
tion of the native brigade. And here Mr Elphinstone may
be left to tell the story himself, in his own words, as con-
tained in a private letter which he addressed to Captain
Close, and which has more graphic interest than the official
report : 'The Peishwah,* he wrote on the nth of Novem-
ber, ' who perhaps had been flattered by Gokla that all his
preparations should be made without his getting into a scrape,
now saw that he must throw off the mask. Accordingly
he sent a very bullying message to desire I would move the
cantonment to such place as he should direct, reduce the
strength of the native brigade, and send away the Euro-
peans J if I did not comply, peace would not last. I re-
frised 3 but said I was most anxious for peace, and should
not cross the river towards Poonah, but if his army came

388 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [1817.

towards ours we should attack it. Within an hour after,
out they came with such readiness, that we had only time
to leave the Sungum with the clothes on our backs, and
crossing the river at a ford, march off to the bridge, with
the river between us and the enemy. The Sungum, with
all my books, journals, letters, manuscripts, &c., was soon
in a blaze, but we got safe to the Khirkee bridge, and soon
after joined the line. While the men and followers were
fording, we went ourselves to observe the enemy. The
sight was magnificent as the tide rolled out of Poonah.
Grant,* who saw it from the height above the powder-cave,

* Better known as Grant Duff, author of the * History of the
Mahrattahs,' in which valuable work the illustration cited by Mr
Elphinstone is to be found. The following passage, in which it is
contained, is altogether very striking : * On ascending one of the
eminences on which they were forming, the plain beneath presented
at that moment a most imposing spectacle. This plain, then covered
with grain, terminates on the west by a range of small hills, while on
the east it is boimded by the city of Poonah, and the small hills
already partially occupied by the infantry. A mass of cavalry covered
nearly the whole extent of it, and towards the city endless streams of
horsemen were pouring from every avenue. Those only who have
witnessed the Bore in the Gulf of Cambay, and have seen in per-
fection the approach of that roaring tide, can form the exact idea pre-
sented to the author at the sight of the Peishwah's army. It was
towards the afternoon of a very sultry day, there was a dead calm,
and no sound was heard except the rushing, the trampling, and the
neighing of horses, and the rumbling of the gun-wheels. The effect
was heightened by seeing the peaceful peasantry flying from their
work in the field, the bullocks breaking from their yoke, the wild
antelopes, startled from sleep, boimding off, and then turning for a
moment to gaze on this tremendous inundation which swept all before
it, levelled the hedges and standing com, and completely overwhelmed
every ordinary barrier as it moved.* From this, and from Mr Elphin-

i8i7.] THE BATTLE OF KHIRKBE. 389

described it as resembling the Bore in the Gulf of Cambay.
Everything was hushed except the tramphng and neighing
of horses, and the whole valley was filled with them like a
river or flood. I had always told Colonel Burr that when
war broke out we must recover our character by a forward
movement that should encourage and fix our own men,
while it checked our enemies, and I now, by a lucky mis-
take, instead of merely announcing that the Peishwah was
at war, sent an order to move down at once and attack him.
Without this, Colonel Burr has since told me, he would
not have advanced. However, he did advance. We joined,
and, after some unavoidable delay, the Dapooree battalion
joined too. When opposite to the nullah we halted (inju-
diciously, I think) to cannonade, and at the same time the
enemy began from twelve or fifteen guns. Soon after, the
whole mass of cavalry came on at speed in the most
splendid style. The rush of horse, the sound of the earth,
the waving of flags, the brandishing of spears, were grand
beyond description, but perfectly ineffectual. One great
body, however, under Gokla and Moro Dixit, and some
others, formed on our lefl and rear, and when the first
battalion of the 7th was drawn off to attack Major Pinto,
who appeared on our left, and was quite separated from the
European regiment, this body charged it with great vigour,
and broke through it and the European regiment. At this

stone's graphic letter to Captain Close, a just impression of the
picturesque grandeur of the scene may be derived. In some parts of
the Resident's description, as in * the rush of horse, the sound of
the earth^ {quadrupedante soniiu, &c.), the reader will discern marks
of Elphinstone's classical reading.

390 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [1817.

time the rest of the line was pretty well occupied with shot,
matchlocks, and, above all, with rockets, and I own I
thought there was a good chance of our losing the battle.
The first battalion of the 7 th, however, though it had ex-
pended all its ammunition, survived the charge, and was
brought back to the line by Colonel Burr, who showed in-
finite coolness and courage, and, after some more firing and
some advancing, together with detaching a few companies
to our right, towards the Httle hill of Gunesh Kind, we
found ourselves alone in the field, and the sun set. I was
at first for advancing to the water at the Sait garden, but
was persuaded it was better to return, which it was. If
we had not made this movement forward, the Peishwah's
troops would have been quite bold, ours cowed, and we
doubtftd of their fidelity 5 we should have been cannonaded
and rocketed in our own camp, and the horse would have
been careering within our picquets. As it is, the Peishwah's
army has been glad to get safe behind Poonah, and we have
been almost as quiet as if encamped on the Retee at Delhi.
We did not lose a hundred men altogether, and we have
quite set our name up again. That the Peishwah should
not give us another field-day before General Smith comes
in (which he will by the 14th), is incredible. But the
Mahrattas are unaccountable animals.* It was characteristic
of Elphinstone that he said little about his own achieve-
ments. But, in truth, he fought the battle, and was the
real hero of the day. He suiFered severely too. ' All my
writing implements,V he reported to Government, 'with
everything I had, except the clothes on my back, have
formed part of the blaze at the Residency, which is now

1817.1 T^HE PEISHWAirS ARMY ROUTED, 391

smoking in sight.* His 'writing inoplements' were liis
books and maniiscripts — his journals and notes — ^materials
for future literary works, with pleasant schemes of which
his brain was then teeming. The loss of these last was the
nation's loss, and it was wholly irreparable.*

Having had this taste of the quality of our troops, the
Mahrattas were disinclined to give us further battle, and for
some days active hostilities were suspended. But the
interval was fatal to the Peishwah. Reinforcements, under
Greneral Smith, were hastening to Mr Elphinstone's assist-
ance. On the 13 th they arrived at Poonah, and arrange-
ments were immediately made for an attack on the
Peishwah's camp. The blow, however, was not struck
until the 17th 5 and then it fell upon a routed army. The
advance of our divisions was sufficient to scare the enemy j
they saw that all hope of resistance was utterly futile 5 so
they broke and fled. The game was all up with the Peish-
wah and his advisers, and the great city of Poonah lay
prostrate and helpless at our feet.f

* Some of our readers will recall to mind what Cowper wrote of
the burning of Lord Mansfield's books and manuscripts — those happy
lines ending with :

* Their pages mangled, burnt, and torn.

The loss was his alone ;
But ages yet to come shall mourn
The burning of his own.*

+ The following characteristic anecdote is related by General
Briggs : * As an instance of Mr Elphinstone's great kindness to others,
and attention to the most minute points in times of trouble and tur-
moil, I cannot help relating that immediately after the battle of
Khirkee he sought out my family, which had found refuge in a cow-

393 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONB. [1817.

Then all the humanity of £lphin^tone*8 nature was
roused within him, and how to save the city from the fiiry
of the troops became his first care in the emergency th^
had arisen. There were many circmnstances to inflame
the passions of the British soldiery, and he scarcely hoped
to be able to extinguish them. 'After the flight of the
army,' he wrote to Lord Hastings, * General Smith took
measures for reducing the city of Poonah, if necessary, and
for saving it, if practicable, fi-om the fury of our troops.
This had long been an object of great anxiety to General
Smith, and the consideration of it had entered into all his
plans for the defeat of the army. The plunder and de-
struction of our Residency and Cantonments, the losses qf
many of the Sepoys, the disgraceful circumstances of the
murder of the officers at Tulligaum, the massacre of the
wives of the Sepoys who had fallen into the enemy's hands
on the 5th, the mutilation of a Sepoy who had been taken
prisoner while straggling from Greneral Smith's line of
march, and many other acts of impotent rage on the part
of the Peishwah*s Court, had raised the indignation of the
men to the highest pitch, and they did not conceal their
eager desire to revenge themselves by sacking and plunder-
ing the enemy's capital. In this state of the feelings of

shed ; he procured a table and writing materials, and then and there
wrote his despatches. A hasty meal of tea and bread-and-butter suf-
ficed him after all the labours of the day, and by daylight he started
with the troops in pursuit of the enemy. In the first moment of
leisure, he caused a list of articles of supplies to be made out, which,
together with a tent for my family, he purchased and sent to them.
It was thus, in the midst of business, Mr Elphinstone forgot nothing.*
— Colebrookis Memoir in Asiatic Journal,

i8x7.] POONAH PRESERVED. 393

the army^ it appeared difficult to save Poonah in any cir-
cumstances^ and impossible in the event of resistance. To
obviate the last danger^ General Smith and I sent letters in
duplicate flags of truce to the Peishwah and Gokla offering
to protect the town, if evacuated 5 and warning them of
the consequence of holding out. One copy was carried on
to the Peishwah and Grokla, who promised an answer, but
never sent it 5 the other was given open to the person in
charge of the Peishwah*8 fortified palace, who promised an
answer by noon. Before he arrived, Hurree-Rao, tne
banker generally employed by the Company, came to
solicit protection for the bankers and merchants, and
offered to establish our guards in the city. In this he suc-
ceeded, though some contemptible preparations had been
made for defence. Guards were posted at the four princi-
pal public offices and the Peishwah*s palace, which may be
considered as the citadel of Poonah. Every arrangement
was made by (reneral Smith for the security of the place.
Some trifling excesses were committed in the suburbs
before there was time to take precautions, but the city
suffered no injury, and the loss of property was quite insig-
nificant. Considering all circumstances, the forbearance
of the troops deserved high admiration. General Smith's
success in protecting Poonah is attended with very import-
ant advantages, tending to maintain our general reputation,
and to conciliate friends in the present contest, and as pre-
serving a very fertile source of supply both of money and
of commodities for the army.* *

* The fine soldierly qualities of Mr Elphinstone, as evinced

394 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONB. [,«i9^

So Badjee Rao became an outcast and a fugitive 5 * and
Mountstuart Elphinstone, as was sportively said at the
time, became Peishwah in his place. A new career now
opened itself out before him. He had, up to this time,
been distinguished mainly as a diplomatist. In that capa-
city he had evinced, in a remarkable degree, the sagacity to
foresee and to overcome all difficulties, and the high courage
which encounters all dangers with a cool and resolute
bearing. But he was now to find another field for the
exercise of his great abilities. Henceforth he was to shine
as an administrator. The territories ruled by the Peishwah
were to become part and parcel of the British dominions.
He had forfeited them by acts of treacherous hostility 5 and

throughout these operations, were thus extolled by Mr Canning in
the House of Commons : * Mr Elphinstone (a name distinguished in
the literature as well as the politics of the East) exhibited, on that
trying occasion, military courage and skill which, though valuable
accessories to diplomatic talents, we are not entitled to require as
necessary qualifications for civil emplojrment. On that, and not on
that occasion only, but on many others in the course of this singular
campaign, Mr Elphinstone displayed talents and resources which
would have rendered him no mean General in a country where Gen-
erals are of no mean excellence and reputation.' The Duke of
Wellington had written in a like strain many years before. That
Elphinstone fought and won the battle of Khirkee is not to be
doubted ; but the reader will observe that he assigned all the merit
to Colonel Burr, who was, in truth, old and infirm, and little capable
of contending with such a crisis. Even the directions which Elphin-
stone gave for the advance of the British troops, he modestly describes
as a fortunate mistake.

♦ In the preceding Memoir of Sir John Malcolm (pages 292—:
294), some account is given of the circumstances of Badjee Rao's
surrender, and of the cession of his territories to the British Go-
vernment' The story need not, therefore, be repeated in this place.

x8i8.] SETTLEMENT OF THE CEDED PROVINCES, 395

the English Grovemment deemed it essential to their security
to curb for ever his power to threaten the paramount State
and disturb the peace of the country.

The year 18 18 found Mr Elphinstone entering upon his
new duties as ' Commissioner,' or Governor, of the Poonah
territories. I remember once to have heard a distin-
guished English writer declare his opinion that our Anglo-
Indian statesmen had been much overrated, for that it was
' very easy to govern people of that kind.* There could
not be a more prodigious mistake. To govern a people
aright, it is necessary that we should understand them
aright. And it is anything but an easy matter to under-
stand aright a people, or rather a congeries of peoples, dif-
fering from us and perhaps from each other, in their lan-
guages, their religions, their political institutions, and their
social usages ; least of all is it easy when these communities
are to the last degree jealous and exclusive, and both sus-
picious and resentful of the approaches and inquiries kA
strangers. That during the years he had spent as repre-
sentative of British interests at the Court of the Peishwah,
he had gained much serviceable information relating to the
character, and the usages, and the institutions of the Mah-
rattahs, is not to be doubted. But when he began to
superintend the internal administration of the country, he
acknowledged, with the true humility of wisdom, how
much more he had yet to learn. In later days, men for-
saking the traditions of the good old school of Munro,
Malcolm, and Elphinstone, have ridden their favourite
theories rough-shod over both the privileges and the preju-
dices of people newly subjected to our sway, never ques^

396^ MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [zSz8— X9t

tioning their inclination to be measured by the Benthamite
foot-rule of the European stranger. But half a century ago
our statesmen, in a ceded or conquered country, held it to
be their first duty to learn thoroughly the manner in which
the natives of India had governed themselves, before pre-
scribing the manner of governing for them. Now, this
matter of native administration was, and is, a very hetero-
geneous and complicated affair, much good mixed up with
much evil 5 and, noticeable above all things by those who
care to investigate the truth, such a multiplicity of rights
and privileges, derived fi^om different sources and main-
tained by different tenures, that it demands very cautious
treading, on the part even of the wisest and the justest,
not to crush some of them under foot. It may be said,
indeed, that in proportion as the British Administrator un-
derstands and respects these rights and privileges, his ad-
ministration is successfid. These great essential conditions
of knowledge and of sympathy, Mr Elphinstone now, with
his strong head and his large heart, most religiously ful-
filled. He was not one to regard the overthrow of a
Native Government as an unmixed benefit to the people.
Indeed, at this time, he was fearful lest, in the conjuncture
which had arisen, other native principalities might be over-
thrown 3 and he wrote to Mr Jenkins, April 13, 1818,
saying : ' I hope that you are setting up a Native Govern-
ment. One example is enough ; and two entire conquests
on our hands would embarrass us both in the acquisition
and retention. I was far from thinking, as you supposed,
that you ought to have deposed the Rajah at once. I
thought you very right to keep him on his musnud.

x8i8— 19.] SETTLEMENT OP THE CEDED PROVINCES. ^^

although his folly baffled all calculation.* And that he
was in no hurry to re-cast the administration of the Poonah
territories, as he found it, is clearly evidenced by the fact
that a year after the government had passed into his hands,
he wrote to the same correspondent (January 17, 1819),^
saying : ' You ask what we are about, and how it happens
that you do not hear from us. Both questions can easily
be answered in one. We are learning the late system of
Justice, Police, and Revenue, and considering what it suits
us to establish in its room. In the mean time, as events
will not wait till we have finished our deliberations, we
are carrying on the Grovemment on such principles as the
studies alluded to suggest. All this occupies much time
and labour. There are five of us belonging to the Com-
mission, and all our hands are full all day. I omitted one
branch of our labour, which is important enough — fixing
the lands to be hereafter held by Jagheerdars. We are
also carrying on an expedition against Sawunt Warree under
Sir W. Kier, and we have military arrangements of dis-
tribution and reduction to superintend.*

That this settlement of the Peishwah*s ceded districts is
one of the greatest administrative successes which the Brit*
ish have ever accomplished in the East, is, notwithstanding
later triumphs, still acknowledged after a lapse of nearly
half a century. Throughout all that time it has been cited
as a precedent, and foUowed as an example, by later gen-
erations of Indian statesmen ^ but it is still unsurpassed in
the annals of the Empire. The change was a prodigious
one, and it was no easy task to reconcile to it all classes of
the native community. In later days, we have been wont

3gB MOUNTSTUART BLPHINSTONB, [x8z&~-i^

to assume^ in such cases^ not only the utter absence of all
national feeling, but a craving after British rule^ which
never has existed and never will exist in the popular mind^
however wise and beneficent our Government may be.
Mr Elphinstone had no delusions of this kind. He knew
that it would be a wise thing to flatter the nationality of
the Mahrattahs of Western India, and the Grovemment of
Lord Hastings, adopting the views of the Resident^ will-
ingly consented to soothe the mortification of the con-
quered by erecting, on the downfall of the Peishwah, a
new Mahrattah principality under the descendants of the
House of Sivajee, who, at that time, were little more than
State-prisoners. Rescued from their degradation, they
were restored to limited power and authority by the erec*
tion of the Raj of Sattarah 3 and the national pride was
gratified by the concession. This doubtless paved the way
to £lphinstone*s successes 5 but still it was no easy task
that lay before him. If he had been a man of a less lively
imagination, and of less comprehensive sympathies, he
might have failed in such a conjuncture. But, as Resident,
he had studied all classes of the people, and he had tried
to think and to feel with them 3 and though he had inter*
fered as little as possible in the internal affairs of the Poonah
State, he had been compelled at times to exercise his in*
fiuence, especially as arbitrator between the Peishwah and
the privileged classes, who were continually in conflict with
each other.* Years before he had written to Metcalfe a

* In a letter before me, written whilst Elphinstone was Resident
at Poonah, he wrote with reference to these arbitrations : * I have sent
in a very long report, stating the history of the Jagheerdars, the rise

x8i8— 19.] TREATMENT OF PRIVILEGED CLASSES, 399

letter detailing the nature of his occupations at Poonah,
and had said: 'Another employment is to prevent the
destruction of the few old families that remain in this Em-
pire, and that is almost the only internal affair with which
we meddle, the plan here being the excellent one of really
sticking to the treaty, and keeping off the evil day of our
having to take the government into our own hands as long
as possible. A still more difficult task is to prevent the
Peishwah meddling in other people's affairs, of which he is
very fond, and for which the vast pretensions of this Go-
vernment afford many opportunities.* And now that the
Peishwah was removed from the scene, Mr Elphin stone
was equally eager to prevent the destruction of the old
families, and he made it one of his first cares on assuming
the administration, to inquire into the tenures of the privi-
leged classes, and to deal with then) not only justly but
generously on the transfer of the sovereign power to the
British Government. He felt that this course was de-
manded as much by sound policy as by right principle, and
he never had cause to question its wisdom. Some years

and progress of their disputes with the Peishwah, the present state of
his claims, the measures adopted by Lord Wellington to adjust them,
the subsequent policy of the British Government and its effects, the
plan of adjustment which I would now recommend, and the measures
to be pursued for enforcing it The plan was to strike off all claims
for arrears, and, generally speaking, all claims the enforcing of which
does not promise much future advantage. To call on the Jagheerdars
to settle these claims, and offer our arbitration and guarantee, and in
the event of any hesitation, to attack them with all the force we could
assemble, but not to dispossess them if we could avoid it, as their
Tagheers are better managed under them than they would be under
the Peishwah.*

400 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [xSiS-;-^

afterwards, when these alienations of revenue were under
the consideration of the Supreme Government, and it
seemed that a covetous eye had been cast upon them, Mr
£lphinstone protested against resumptionary measures,
adding : ' The maintenance of many of the chiefs in their
possessions was certainly suggested, as supposed, by the
Governor-General, for the purpose of avoiding popular dis-
content, and preventing the too rapid fall of great families,
but in other cases it rested on the belief that the holders
were entitled of right to their possessions 3 where a Jagheer
was by the original grant made hereditary in the famUy of
the grantee, there could be no doubt of the right of the
descendant, but where there was no such grant (as was the
case with almost all the Jagheers), the right rested on dif-
ferent grounds, arising from the territory of the Jagheers
(or Surinjams, as they are called by the Mahrattahs). A
Jagheer was usually granted during life, for the purpose of
maintaining troops to serve the State. A small portion
was set aside as a personal provision for the chief. This
mode of maintaining troops being always kept up, there
was no motive for removing the Jagheerdar, and conse-
quently every grant was renewed on the death of each in-
cumbent, his son paying a relief to the Government. When
this practice had long subsisted, the Jagheer came to be
regarded as hereditary, and the resumption of it would
have been viewed as a violation of private property 3 the
nature and history of Jagheers has so great an analogy to
those of feudal benefices, that the manner in which this
transition took place can be easily understsod in Europe.

t8x8— 19.] TRBA TAfENT OP PRIVILEGEO CLASSES. 401

The period for which a Jagheer had been held was^ there-
fore> a very important point to advett to in deciding how
long to continue it. I reconimended that all granted by
the Mogul Emperors or the Rajahs of Sattarah should be
hereditary in the fullest sense of the word. The former
must* generally Jiave been veiy long in the families which
held them, and had survived two changes of dynasty. These
do not seem now to be interfered with. The latest of the
Sattarah grants must now be near a century old, and must
have survived a change of dynasty besides our conquest.
Surely there is enough to entitle the possessor to feel secure
from future disturbance. On this prinaple, I believe, we
stipulated with the new Raj^h of Sattarah that he should
not reserve such grants of his ancestors as lay within his
territory, binding ourselves by implication (if the fact be as
I have supposed) not to resimie those within ours. What
I can recollect of the history of the particular families
whose lands it is now proposed to resume, confirms me in

my former opinion The Jagheerdars of the Peish-

wahs stood on a different footing : they had arisen under
the djmasty which we subverted 5 none could have been in
possession for more than seventy years, and they had been
kept in mind by the exactions of service, as well as by oc-
casional resumptigns, of the real nature and extent of their
tenure. Much consideration was, however, due to thorn
as the actual possessors of power, and they were allowed t^
retain their personal lands for one or more generations, ac-
cording to their merits or importance. No change has

taken place in the condition of this class, and I cannot see
VOL. I. 26

409 MOUirrSTUART BLPfilifSTON£y [xUS-^if.

how any cl^m which th^y potoessed at the couqnest laa
been weakened since.' *

It was, indeed, his dfesire to establish the new system of
government, in all things, as much as possible^ in conform-
ity with the genius of the people. And in no respect did
he consider it more important to refrain from a top sum-«
mary ii^troduction of English machinery and agency^ than
in the great matter of the administration of justice. In a
report on the Settlement of the Ceded Districts, which he
sent in to Govemment, and which since^ in its printed
form,t has been studied by later generations of Indian
statesmen perhaps more than any other State-paper on the
records, he dwelt, at considerable length, on this subject.
After describing the rough-and-ready native system of
judicial procedure, and commenting on its character and
consequences, he said : ' Such are the advantages and disi-
advantages of the native administration of justice^ which
are to be weighed against those of the plan adopted in our
provinces. If we were obliged to take them as they stood
under the native Government, the scale would probably
soon be turned $ but as it is possible to invigorate the system^
and to remove its worst abuses, the question is not so easily
decided. The most striking advantages in our plan appear
to be, that the laws are fixed, and that as means are taken
tQ, promulgate them, they may be known to every one.
That the decisions of the Adawlut, being always on fixed

* From a Minute recorded by Mountstuftrt Elphinstone, when
Governor of Bombay.*

t It should be observed, however, that the whole of the report
was not printed.

i8i»frt90 . Z .NON-INTERFERENCE, . J.:. 4C9

principles, may always be foreseen j that there is a regular
and certain mode of obtaining redress 5 that the decision on
each separate case is more speedy than in any native court,
and that it is more certain of being enforced 5 that justice
may be obtained by means of the Adawlut, even from
officers of Government, or from Government itself^ that
the judges are pure, and their purity and correctness are
guarded by appeals 3 and that the whole system is steady
and imiform, and is not liable to be biased in its motions by
fear or affection, policy or respect. On the other hand, it
appears that, although the regulations are promulgated, yet,
as they are entirely new to the people x>f India, a long time
must pass before they can be generally known; and as
both they and the decisions of the court are founded on
European notions, a still longer period must elapse before
their principles can be at all understood 5 that this obscurity
of itself throws all questions relating to property into doubt,
and produces litigation, which is further promoted by the
existence of a class of men rendered necessary by the nu-
merous technical difficulties of our law, whose subsistence
depends on the abundance of lawsuits/

Moved by these considerations, he determined to inter.-
fere, at the outset, as little as possible with native usages,
and to leave to the infallible action of time to work out
reforms from within. ' The plan,* he wrote, ' I have pro^
posed has many obvious and palpable defects, and many
more will no doubt appear when its operations are ftdly
observed. It has this advantage, that it leaves unimpaired
the institutions, the opinions, and the feelings that have
Jittherto kept the community together; and that, as ito

404 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [x8iS— i|.

fault is meddling too Hide, it may be gradually remedied
by interfering when urgently required. An opposite plan,
if it fail, fails entirely ; it has destroyed evei;|rth]ng that
could supply its place, and when it sinks, the whole frame
of the society sinks with it. This plan, has another advan-
tage likewise, that if it does not provide complete instru-
ments for the decision of suits, it keeps clear of the causes
that produce litigation. It makes no great changes^ either
real or apparent, in the laws, and it leads to no revolution
in the state of property. The established practice, also,
though it be worse than another proposed in its room, will
be less grievous to the people, who have acconmiodated
themselves to the present defects, and are scarcely aware of '
their existence 5 while every fault in a new system, and
perhaps many things that are not faults, would be severely
felt for want of this adaptation. I do not, however, mean to
say that our interference with the native plan is odious at
present. On the contrary, several of the Collectors are of
opinion that a summary decision by an European judge is
more agreeable to the natives than any other mode of trial.
This may be the case at first, but if the decisions of Eu-
ropeans should ever be so popular as to occasion the disuse
of the native modes of settlement, there would soon be a
run on the courts, and justice, however pure when obtaiped,
would never be got without years of delay.*

The student of recent Indian history cannot fail to ob^
serve that the principles here enforced are widely at vari-
ance with those which some later administrators of high
repute have carried with them to the settlement of our
newly-acquired territories. Thirty years afterward. Sir

x8i8— 19-] NON'INTBRFERBNCB 405

Henry Lawrence, whose policy it was to support native
institutions, declared that our first administrative efforts in
the Punjab had been marred by the error we had committed
in endeavouring to do too much good. With a deeply-
rooted, and, indeed, very natural conviction, that English
systems are better than Indian systems, we are sometimes
wont to pour new wine into old bottles until the bottles
burst with a disastrous explosion. It was the peculiar
wisdom of Mountstuart Elphinstone, that, at a time when
there was a general disposition to sow broadcast the seeds
of the ' Regulations * all over the land, he recognized the
fact that the Hindoos are not a people addicted to change,
but, on the other hand, naturally prone to resent and resist
even beneficent innovations, and so he determined that the
changes which were really desirable should appear to de-
velop themselves naturally fi-om within, rather than engraft
themselves on the system by the force of external dictation.
And thus, by exciting the fears of none, and offending the
prejudices of none, he carried all classes with him, and they
were gradually reconciled to our rule.

But it was not in the nature of things that there should
not be some malcontents. It was not probable that such
a revolution as this should be accomplished without some
efforts to subvert the new dynasty. There are always some
adherents of a deposed Prince to whom the presence of the
white man ruling in his place is an offence and an abomin-
ation. Plots and conspiracies, which may or may not out-
wardly develop themselves, are the certain attendants of such a
state of things. Elphinstone was, therefore, neither surprised
nor unprepared, when positive proof was afforded him of a

4o6 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [1819;

plot, in which certain Mahrattah Brahmins were the- chief
agents, to murder all the Europeans at Poonah and Sattarah,
and to re-establish the sovereignty of the Peishwah. It
was then as necessary to display vigour and daring, as, in
the general adjustment of affairs, mildness and consideration.
So he caused the ringleaders to be seized and blown away
from the mouth of a gun. This terrible example had the
desired effect. It is related that Sir Evan Nepean, who
was then Governor of Bombay, though he approved the
act, was somewhat startled by its boldness, and advised Mr
Elphinstone to ask for an act of indemnity. But the coun-
sel was rejected. ' If I have done wrong,' he said, ' I ought
to be punished 5 if I have done right, I don't want any act
of indemnity.' *

• From the performance of these important duties, which
in effect were those of a Lieutenant-Governor of a great
province, Mr Elphinstone was called to fill a still higher
and more honourable post. In 18 19, the chief seat in the
Government of Bombay was vacated by the retirement of
Sir Evan Nepean 5 and it became necessary to appoint a
successor. I have shown in the preceding Memoir that
Sir John Malcolm had expected to succeed to the vacant
government. There were then three servants of the Com-
pany who had founded such high claims to distinction, that
the appointment of either one of them to the post would
have given general satisfaction throughout India, and with

♦ I am indebted for this anecdote to the interesting memoir of
Mr Colebrooke. It is given on the authority of Mr Wanden* ■' ■- '

i8i8— 19.] NON'INTBRPERBNCB 405

Henry Lawrence, whose policy it was to support native
institutions, declared that our first administrative efforts in
the Punjab had been marred by the error we had committed
in endeavouring to do too much good. With a deeply-
rooted, and, indeed, very natural conviction, that English
systems are better than Indian systems, we are sometimes
wont to pour new wine into old bottles until the bottles
burst with a disastrous explosion. It was the peculiar
wisdom of Mountstuart Elphinstone, that, at a time when
there was a general disposition to sow broadcast the seeds
of the ^ Regulations * all over the land, he recognized the
fact that the Hindoos are not a people addicted to change,
but, on the other hand, naturally prone to resent and resist
even beneficent innovations, and so he determined that the
changes which were really desirable should appear to de-
velop themselves naturally from within, rather than engraft
themselves on the system by the force of external dictation.
And thus, by exciting the fears of none, and offending the
prejudices of none, he carried all classes with him, and they
were gradually reconciled to our rule.

But it was not in the nature of things that there should
not be some malcontents. It was not probable that such
a revolution as this should be accomplished without some
efforts to subvert the new dynasty. There are always some
adherents of a deposed Prince to whom the presence of the
white man ruling in his place is an offence and an abomin-
ation. Plots and conspiracies, which may or may not out-
wardly develop themselves, are the certain attendants of such a
state of things. Elphinstone was, therefore, neither surprised
nor unprepared, when positive proof was afforded him of a

4o8 MOUNTSTUART BLPHINSTONE. 08i9-«[^

and a ruler^ it is enough to answer that he made for him-
self an enduring place in the hearts of the people. To write
this is in efiect to write that he was wise^ and just^ and
humane. Bishop Heber^ related of him that he had heard
it said that ' all other public men had their enemies and
their friends^ their admirers and their aspersers^ but that of
Mr £lphinstone everybody spoke highly.* And there is
still, after the lapse of forty years^ no name in Western India
more reverenced or more beloved than that of Mountstuart
Elphinstone.

There was at this time a many-sidedness about Mr
£lphinstone*s personal character and habits which excited
the surprise and admiration of all who had an opportunity
of closely watching his career. His activity took first one

* Heber's picture of Elphinstone is so good that I cannot resist
quoting a portion of it : ' Mr Elphinstone is, in every respect, an ex-
tnunrdinary man, possessing great activity of body and mind, remark-
able talent for and application to public business, a love of literature,
and a degree of universal information such as I have met with in no
other person similarly situated, and manners and conversation of the
most amiable and interesting character. While he has seen more of
India and the adjoining countries than any man now living, and has
been engaged m active political and sometimes military duties since
the age of eighteen, he has found time not only to cultivate the
languages of Hindustan and Persia, but to preserve and extend his
acquaintance in the Greek and Latin classics, with the French and
Italian, with all the elder and more distinguished English writers,
and with the current and popular literature of the day, both in poetry,
history, politics, and poHtical economy. With these remarkable
accomplishments, and notwithstanding a temperance amounting to
rigid abstinence, he is fond of society ; and it is a common subject of
surprise with his friends in what hours of the day or night he foand
time for the acquisition of knowledge.*

x8i9-^-] GOVERNOR OF BOMBAY. 409

shape and then another. You might have conceived^ at
one time» that he was an ardent sportsman^ with all his
heart in the chase 5 at another^ that he was a literary recluse^
with no thoughts beyond his books ; and^ again^ that his
whole mind was given up to the administrative duties of
his office. The sport and the literature were in reality but
the complements of his official life^— contributing, each in
its way> to make up the fidl perfection of the statesman's
character. For it may be said that great statesmen are
seldom merely statesmen — ^that a man to be fit to encounter
adequately the pressure of public affairs must have interests
apart from the bureau, to keep his mind fresh and his nerves
braced up for the contest. That Mr Elphinstone was a
patient and laborious man of business, we know from the
evidence of one of his chief secretaries. Mr Warden says
that his conscientious consideration of all the details of his
official business was such, * that he took as much pains about
a matter of five rupees as about the draft of a treaty.'
Taken in their literal significance^ I should say that these
words express that which must be regarded as a defect in
the character of a public man 5 but I conceive that the
writer meant only to say that small afiairs of government
received, equally with great, the attention due to them in
proportion to their several requirements. But, for all this
laborious addiction to business, we are told that when Mr
Elphinstone was on his visitation-tours (and he visited twice
every part of the Presidency), there was ' always in the camp
a shikaree (or huntsman), whose business it was to inquire
for hogs, and whenever he brought in intelligence of game,
Mr Elphinstone would prodmm a holiday^ and go hunting

4IBO MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [18x9-47;:

perhaps for one or two days, and he was fbnd of a chase at
any time.* I have no doubt that the public business was
done all the better for these interludes of recreation.

His self-sacrificing^ conscientiousness was clearly evinced
at this time by the large reductions which he made in the
expenses of the Government House establishment.. He had
received instructions from the Home Grovemment to com-
mence a course of retrenchment, and he thought that
economy, like charity, should * begin at home j * so he
commenced the work committed to him by those reduc-:
tions of expenditure which would most nearly aflect himself:
Bjit he did not merely give prospective effect to these
savings. Arguing, very strictly,, with his own conscience,
that what was sufficient then must have been sufficient
before for the support of the Government House establish-
ment, he paid back to the treasury, from his private
resources, forty -five thousand rupees (^4500) of the
money which he had expended before the orders were,
received from home.

. JBut although, as I have said, the period of Mr Elphin-
stone's government of Bombay was historically uneventful,
its monotony was sometimes relieved by threatenings of
war and mutterings of intrigue and sedition. The adherents
of the deposed Peishwah were playing that deep game
which culminated at last, more than thirty years after-
wards, in the massacres of Futtehghur and Cawnpore.
Emissaries were going forth to all the Mahrattah Courts,
and even to the Sikh country, sowing seeds which it might
take the space of a generation to develop — but Hindoo
^trigue is ever patient, watchful, and full of hope. ' Mr

iU9^ri GOVBm^OJH OF 30MBAV. J^t^

Chaplin/ wrote Elphinstone to Metcalfe, in August, i8aa,
* has contrived to get hold of a most secret and authentic
source of information, by which he has discovered, beyond
a doubt, that Badjee Rao is canying on intrigues in his
own dominions and at different Courts, Narroo Punt Apty,
who quitted Badjee Rao on pretence of a quarrel, is his
agent in Scindiah*s camp. I should think him ill calculated
for political intrigues, though the best soldier the ]?eish-
wah had. From his incautious character, Stuart might be
able to find out what he is about, but great care should be
taken that Stuart does not disclose our own knowledge of
the intrigues going on. The great agent in this communi-
cation at Bhitoor is Viraik Nana Shrontee, who, unless I
mistake the name (which I do not think I do), wasi one of
the active agents in corrujjting our troops, and who left
Poonah for Hindostan shortly before I came here. The
letters talk of intrigues in various directions, and speak of
Scindiah as the only resource, but without saying that he
is engaged in the cause. I think both Stuart (if he does
not already) and Low— especially the latter — should send
copies of their reports to Mr Chaplin. I have requested
the latter to send agents to Bhitoor and Benares, because
Poonah people are so much more likely than any others to
penetrate all mtrigue among their own countrymen. For
this reason I have even desired him to send a newsrwriter
to Bombay, where a branch of the intrigue appears to be
carried on.* And then Mr Elphinstone proceeded to give
a list of Badjee Rao*s agents, as communicated to Mr
Chaplin, his successor at, Poonah, in which, though the
names of the emissaries were identi^ed, the places to wiiieh

4xa MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONB. IxU^-^^

thej were despatched were sometimes disguised bjr Cabalistic
terms, intelligible only to the initiated.

There were troubles, too, in the country more to the
westward — including certain prospects of the enforced
castigation of Kolhapoor and of a war with Sindh-— evenla
the full development of which were reserved for a later
period. On these subjects £lphinstone wrote to Metcalfe^
in April, 1825 : 'Though Kittoor is settled, the people of
that coimtry, being united by a peculiar religion, and
encouraged by former successfiil rebellions, are not unlikefy
to give some trouble if they have an opportunity. The
Rajah of Kolhapoor, a headstrong young man, has been
seized with a military mania, and after making some con-
quests in his own neighbourhood, and assuming a very
suspicious attitude during the insurrection at Kittoor, he
has now appeared in the Rajah of Sattarah*s fronti^, and
the last accounts hold out a strong prospect of his violating *
territory, either for the purpose of gratifying his resentment
against a particular person who has taken refuge there, or
for some less justifiable purpose. At the same time we
have accounts of an eruption of a very considerable body of
troops from Sindh into Gutch, which the Acting Resident
conceives to have originated in the Government of Sindh^
and to be directed to the subversion of ovu* influence in
Cutch. This is probably an exaggeration, but it is evidently
a serious incursion. All these particular disturbances will
probably subside, but they draw one's attention to the
necessity of being prepared, and of knowing what means
we have at hand in case of need. With this view I should
be much obliged if you could give me some notion of the

i8i9-«7.] (^O VBRNOR OF BOMB A K 4f S

aid we might expect from 70U. You have shown that you
can come in very effectually to our assistance for a spurt,
but you might not be able to do it permanently. Could you,
for instance, occupy Sholapore permanently with one regi-
ment of cavalry and two of infantry, if we wished to
withdraw all the troops now there ? and if you could do
this, how long would it take ? I should like also to know
what force you have disposable in the Nizam*s country,
and how far the present state of things requires you to
keep it ready to quell local disturbances ? *

But it was with affairs of internal administration that
his thoughts were at this time principally engaged. A
quiet, unobtrusive career of beneficence lay before him.
One who had recently brought from England a 'new eye*
— a vision imobscured either by custom or by prejudice-
visited Bombay, and wrote of Mr £lphinstone, saying:
' His policy, so far as India is concerned, appeared to me
peculiarly wise and liberal, and he is evidently attached to,
and thinks well of, the country and its inhabitants. His
public measures, in their general tendency, evince a steady
wish to improve their present condition. No Grovemment
in India pays so much attention to schools and public
institutions for education. In none are the taxes lighter,
and in the administration of justice to the natives in their
own languages, in the establishment of punchayets, in the
degree in which he employs the natives in official situations,
and the coimtenance and familiarity which he extends to
all the natives of rank who approach him, he seems to have
reduced to practice almost all the reforms which had
struck me as most required in the system of government

414 MOUNTSTUART BLPHINSTONE, iZx^-^r^r.

pursued in those provinces of our Eastern Empire which I
had previously visited. His popularity (though to such a
feeling therei may be individual exceptions) appears little
less remarkable than his talents and acquirements. . . . ^
Of his munificence^ for his liberality amounts to this, I had
heard much^ and knew some instances myself/ The writer
of this was Reginald Heber, already quoted, who was
impressed above all things by Mr Elphinstone*s ardour in
the cause of native education.* The Bombay Grovemor
was one of those who believed that the progress of educa-
tion must eventually cause the withdrawal of the English
from the country, but who was not, therefore, less disposed
to promote it. Speaking of the wants of the natives^
Bishop Heber wrote: 'More has been done, and more
successfully, to obviate these evils in the Presidency of
Bombay than in any part of India which I have yet visited,
through the wise and liberal policy of Mr Elphinstone ^ to
yrhdm this side of the peninsula is also indebted for some
v6iy ii;nportant and efficient improvements in the admioifr-
tration of justice, and who, both in amiable temper and
maimers, extensive and various information, acute good
sense, energy, and application to business, is one of the
most extraordinary men, as he is quite the most popular
Governor, that I have fallen in with.*. It was Mr Elphin-

, ♦ * A society for the promotion of education existed at Bombay
previous to Mr Elphinstone's succession to the Government; but
attention to that of the natives formed oqly a branch, and an inf<^or
branch, of its objects. The first establishment of a society, which
shcivSd have the education of the natives only in view, dates from a
meeting held in August, 1826, over which Mr Elphinstone presided.'
^-CoUhrooke, -

i8i9-fl7.] . 00 VERNOX OP BOMBAY.: : ; . «^

"»^»"^^^r"»— »""- I •• «. W.J. ■« . L ii . ;"T"we"sr"

Stone's opinion — as it is eveiy orte's opinion in these days—:
that education m India could not be placed on a solid
foundation simply by the unaiided efforts of the people.
He felt that the great cause needed support and assistance
from without, and . unless the Government lent its stroi^
sustaining hand, education must walk feebly and stum-;
blingly through the land. Forty and fifty years ago
'experienced old Indians' stood aghaist at the idea of State
education; and, therefore, Mr £lphinstone is rightly to be
regarded as one of the principal pioneers of the great
system, the wisdom of which is now uniformly dcknoMfS
iedged. He met the chief native inhabitants on the
common ground of a common good.-^— told them that what
would be to the advantage of the State would be doubly
to the advantage of the people — that the Government and
the community must, therefore, imite in promoting the
intellectual improvement of the nation 5 and it is to the
honour of both that the advice which he gave has never
been forgotten. Xl^e wealthy inhabitants of Bombajr, who^
by public subscription, instituted the great Elphinstbne
College, have ever been most Hberal not only in their
support of the existing educational institutions of the CQun'*
try, but in striking out new paths for the intellectual an4
.social advancement of the people. . ' ?

Another great question to which Mr Elphinstone de-
voted his energies was that of legislative and judicial reform.
It has already "been shown that he was not one to go^
after any blind and headstrong' fsishion, into crude experi-
ments and rash innovations ; but he clearly saw the advan-
tage of systematizing and simplifying the laws cm: ' r^gtila*

4t6 MOVNTSTUAl^T ELPHINSTONB. [xSao-flT;

tioDs/ and he desired to bring together the best intelligence
of Bombay for the formation of a code adapted to the
transitional state of the society by which he was then sur-
rounded. His old friend^ Mr William Erskine, .was then
at the Presidency, and the Governor appointed him and
two other gentlemen a committee to draw up a code (A
regulations^ which was for many years> and is stilly substan-
tially^ in force as the law and procedure of that part of the
country. From his correspondence on this subject I take
the following letter, written to an old friend and colleague
in the Bengal Civil Service, whose name in such a volume
as this ought not to be mentioned without an expression of
admiration and respect. Mr William Butterworth Bayley
was a noble example of that class of Civil servants who,
whilst making no vexy prominent appearance on the page
of history, contributed greatly to the consolidation and per-
fection of ovtr Anglo-Indian Empire. His career was com-
paratively an uneventful one, for he did not accompany
great armies into the field or negotiate tQsaties with Native
Princes. But he rose to the very highest posts — even, for
a little space, to the tenure of the Grovernor-Generalship— -
by the performance of the imostentatious duties of an ad-
ministrator in the Judicial and Fiscal departments of the
Service. Whilst yet in the prime of life, he returned ta
England, and became an honoured member of the Court
of Directors of the East India Company 5 and those who
only knew him in his later, I can hardly write his ' declin-
ing,' years, saw old age in its most attractive features ; for
there was an almost boyish freshness and cheerfrdness about
him which afforded the most remarkable contrast ever

x8ao-a7.] GOVERNOR OF BOMBAY. 417

seen to the traditional moroseness and querulousness of the
retired Nabob. He was a member of the Supreme Coun-
cil of India when Mr Elphinstone thus wrote to him :
'.Poonah, September 3, 1822, Adam*s letter, enclosing
your memorandum, reached me so shortly before I left
Bombay, that I have not had time till now to tell you how
much I am obliged to you for it. It was a very great
satisfaction to me to find that what you consider as the
most important part of a new code is already established at
Bombay. It seems to me that the establishment of great
Zemindaries in Bengal, and (in a less degree) the practice
of farming villages to one or more individuals in Hin-
dostan, has prevented our being intimately acquainted
with the tenures of the Ryots in those countries. In all
the country under Bombay (except Broach) the settlements
have always been more or less Ryotwar, and consequently
the collectors were only made acquainted with all the rights
and privileges which each individual could claim under his
particular tenure. A regulation is now in progress, speci-
fying all those tenures, from the simple right of occupancy
up to the Meerassee, which approaches to the character of
freehold property 5 this regulation wiU protect the holder
of land under such tenure from any encroachment either on
the part of the Grovemment or of the person representing
the Grovemment, whether Jagheerdar, Zemindar, or Inam-
dar. This regulation wiU stand good whether we farm our
villages to particular individuals or families (as yoii do in
Hindostan), a plan attended with many advantages 5 whether
we keep up (or introduce) the Ryotwar plan 5 or whether

(which is least likely of all) we introduce the Bengal plan
VOL. I. 27

4i8 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [x

of large Zemindaries. Be^des the tenures of Ryots, thae
are tenures by which single villages are held (whether by
single Potails or Putteedars). The rights of these classes, if
they have any peculiar rights, will Hkewise be defined, and
there will then only remain to &l the rights of Talookhdars,
which in the language of the west of India means depends
ent Princes. Where these persons have been brought com-
pletely under ovir government, any rights that they may
have left may be fixed by regulation, but where they are
only arbitrary, as is generally the case, they must be the
subject of instructions, not of regulations. In speaking of
the rights of heads of villages and of Talookhdars, I mean
those towards the Grovernment, for towards the Ryots they
are already settled by the part of the regulation to which I
first alluded. I shall send you a copy of the r^ulation as
soon as \ get one myself. The register you recommend
(like that of Scotland, Middlesex, and Yorkshire) is already
established by one of our new regulations. The consoli-
dation and compression of the present regulations which
you recommend, as well as the improvements you suggest
in the language, are in progress. The grand desideratum,
however, of a code after the manner of Bentham, as recom-
mended by Mili, is still at a great distance. The want of
a Sanscrit scholar is an obstacle — I am afi*aid an insuper-
able one — to our even commencing on it. Commencing;
indeed, is. all I shall wish for. I would allow fi*om a quar-
ter to half a century before ovu* code was matured enough,
and the people enough prepared for it, to allow of its su-
perseding the present code, if such a name can be applied
to it. I have got to such a length that I must break off^

1820—97.] GOVERNOR OF BOMBAY, 419

and I must not do so without again thanking you for the
trouble you have taken^. and the instruction you have
afForded.*

Of Mr £lphinstone*8 personal habits at this time a
minute account has been given by Mr Warden, then one of
his secretaries, and afterwards a distinguished member of the
Government of Bombay : ' During the eight years Mr EJ-
phinstone was Grovernor of Bombay,' it is stated, ' he visited
each part of the Presidency twice. I was with him as
under-secretary during his last tour through the Peishwah's
country. His habits, whether in the Presidency or in the
Mofiissil, were the same. He rose at daybreak, and,
mounting one of a large stud he always had, rode for an
hour and a half, principally at a hand gallop. He had a
public breakfast every morning, and never left the room as
long as one man desirous of speaking to him remained, but
after that he was invisible to all but his suite. After lunch-
eon he took a short siesta, and in the afternoon read Greek
or Latin, and I have been called to him sometimes as late
as six o'clock in the evening, and remained till there was
only time left to stroll for half an hour before an eight
o'clock dinner 5 at ten he rose from the table, and, reading
for half an hour in his own room, went to bed. Although
surrounded by young men, he never suffered the slightest
indecorum, and if any one after dinner indulged in a dtouhle
entendre y he would not say anything, but pushing back his
chair broke up the party. We alwap had in the camp a
Shikaree, whose business it was to inquire for hog, and
whenever he brought in intelligence of game, Mr Elphin-
stone would proclaim a holiday, and go hunting for one or

490 AiOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [z8ao~^.

perhaps two days^ and he was fond of a chase at any time.
In the midst of many strikmg excellences^ that which
placed him far above all the great men I have heard of was
his forgetfidness of self and thoaghtfiilness for others.** It
may be added to this^ that one of Mr £lphinstone*8 most
striking characteristics was his juvenility of appearance^ and,
to a certain extent, of manner. In a private letter before
me, written from Bombay in 1822, by one who had known
him many years before, I read : * I was exceedingly happy
to find Mr £lphinstone looking so well. Indeed, Time had
laid his hand so lightly on him, that with the exception jof
his hair being darker and thinner, I noticed scarcely any
alteration since our last meeting fourteen years ago. - He stiU
continues as indefatigable as ever, and his spirits as buoyant.*
During his official tours through the country under his
charge, he made a point of seeing everything that could
add to his stores of knowledge, and he would go out of his
way to see a celebrated temple or a venerable ruin, or apy
record of the historical past. There were times, too, when
he indulged the hope that in the course of his wanderings
he might come across old fi'iends— especially such friends
and such public servants as Malcolm, Jenkins, and Metcalfe
— a meeting with whom would be something more than
the mere intercourse of friendship. From his correspond-
ence, in 1821-22, with the last of these eminent political
officers, who was at that time Resident at Hyderabad, the
following extracts will be read with interest : ' Camp, Feb.
8, 1 82 1. I am now on the edge of Hindostan, and when

* I am indebted for this to Sir Edward Colebrooke's Memoir in
the Asiatic JaumaL

1820-27.] GOVERNOR OF BOMBAY. 421

I oegan this letter I was going to Aboo^ in the Joudpoor
territory, half way to Oodeypore, to see a temple j but I
have been obliged to give it up. I should like to see real
Hindostan again, and so, I dare say, by this time would
you.* 'Bombay, July 28, 182 1. I suppose Malcolm has
left you. I heard that Jenkins, you, and he were to meet
at Aarungabad, and, as old Seton would have said, '* My
heart yearned ** to be among so many diplomatists of the old
school, to talk over old politics and old times. These are
certainly flat times compared either to the old Mahratta
war or to those when you and I set forth with the firm
expectation of meeting on the Indus.* ' Poonah, Oct. 17,
1822. I am at this place taking a look at the Mahratta
country. I intend to set out about the middle of next
month on a tour, and to be at Sholapore before the end of
it. I hear you are also going on a tour, and I mention my
plans to you, because, if your route hes at all in the way of
mine, it would be an excellent opportunity for us to meet,
and for you to come on with me and see Beejapore, which
I assure you is worth the pains even after Delhi, Agra, and
Lahore. It is a long time since we had a political convers-
ation, and I am now better qualified to talk over the Jum-
mabundy than the politics of India, but we may still discuss
the probable effects of long tranquillity, education, print-
ing, &:c., as well as the best mode of resisting a Russian in-
vasion.* 'Nov. 5, 1822. I have just received yovu* letter,
and am much pleased with the chance I have of seeing you,
of which, firom what I had heard of your movements, I
had begun to despair. I shall be at Sholapore on the 30th,
and at Beejapore about the 8th« I meant to have stayed

43a MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [xdao-^j.

only two days there^ but would lengthen my stay to the
utmost if I were likely, by doing so, to secure meeting you.
The utmost, however, could be but little, on account of the
people whom I have to meet at fixed times and places on
my journey. Pray try and come. The whole distance to
Beejapore is little more than a hundred and fifly miles, all
through country which you ought to visit.* This meeting,
so much desired by both, never became an accomplished
fact. Metcalfe was at that time immersed breast-high in a
sea of official trouble ; and a painfiil correspondence with
Lord Hastings, not a pleasant meeting with Mountstuart
Elphinstone, was then occupying his time and his thoughts.
He had, however, taken sweet counsel with Malcolm in
the preceding year, and Malcolm had gone on, in the cold
weather, to Bombay, where he had been Elphinstone's guest
and had received quite an ovation fi-om the communities of
the western Presidency. It is pleasant to note these points
of incidence in the careers of men whose lots were cast in
strange and distant places — ^pleasant to think that these
Three held each other in love and reverence to the last
day of their lives. External, circumstantial rivalries there
necessarily were 3 but no rivalries of the heart.

Mr Elphinstone presided over the Government of Bom*
bay during a period of eight years, and then embarked for
Europe, carrying with him the blessings of all classes of the
community. Native and European. Sir John Malcolm^
who had been appointed to succeed him, arrived on the
36th of October, and Elphinstone went on board to w^-

x8a7.] FARE WELL ENTER TAINMENTS. ' 423

come him before £he. ship cast anchor. ' There were then
two or three weeks, during which space the two old friends
and fellow-workmen took counsel together j and then a
great farewell entertainment was given to the departing
Governor. The local chroniclers of the day report that,
' on the evening of the 14th of November, the European
community gave a splendid ball and supper in honour of
Mr Elphinstone, at Mr Newnham's bungalows on the Es-
planade. The Governor, Sir John Malcolm, was present,
and the Commander-in-Chief presided. About two o'clock
Mr Elphinstone, surrounded by his old and approved
friends, took leave of the party, and immediately embarked
on board the Honourable Company's cruiser Palinurus,
which conveys him to Kosseir.'

But this farewell entertainment, given to Mr Elphin-
stone by the cream of Bombay society, was but one, and
perhaps the least, of many valedictory demonstrations which
were made in his honour by the people whom he had go-
verned so wisely and so well, and to whom he had endeared
himself by his unfailing justice and benevolence. During
the last days of his residence at Bombay, meetings had been
held, and addresses poured in upon him from all quarters.
Not one of these was received by him with greater satis-
faction than that which came from the native committees,
headed by the Rajah of Sattarah : ' Until,' they said, 'you
became Commissioner in the Deccan and Governor of Bom- •
bay, never had we been able to appreciate correctly the
invaluable benefits which the British dominion is calculated
to produce throughout the whole of India. But having
beheld with admiration for so long a period the aiiable and

4SI4 MOUNTSTUART BLPHINSTON^ [ifiij.:

encouraging manners, the freedom from prejudice^ the
consideration at all times evinced for the interests and wel-
fare of the people of this country, the regard shown to their
ancient customs and laws, the constant endeavours to ex-
tend amongst them the inestimable advantages of intellectual
and moral improvement, the commanding abilities applied
to ensure permanent ameliorations in the condition of all
classes, and to promote their prosperity on the soundest
principles, we have been led to consider the British influ-
ence and government as the most competent and desirable
blessing which the Supreme Being could have bestowed on
our native land/ And after much more in the same strain,
they proceeded to declare that, ' whilst presenting this sin-
cere tribute of applause to the highly liberal and enlightened
principles by which Mr £lphinstone*s public conduct has
been so peculiarly characterized,' they felt that his ' private
virtues particularly excited their admiration, gratitude, and
respectful affection.' ' For,' they added, ' the accessibility,
the absence of all form, and the urbanity with which you
have alwa3rs received persons of this country of all classes,
the courtesy with which you have admitted them to your
own parties, and the afiable and unrestrained manner in
which you have condescended to mix in their society, can
only be ascribed to those amiable, generous, and high-
minded sentiments, which shine so conspicuously in your
•every word and action.' To this he returned a reply fiill
of characteristic kindness and geniality, in which he paid
high tribute to his successor, his old friend, John Malcolm.
' Of its anxiety,* he said, * to promote the happiness of this
part of its dominions the Honourable Company /:ould not

i8a7.] FAREWELL ADDRESSES, 425

have given a more convincing proof than it has just afibrded
in the nomination of Sir John Malcohn to the Grovemment
of this Presidency. Distinguished as that eminent person
is for all the qualities of a soldier and statesman^ there is
none for virhich he is more remarkable than for his esteem
and attachment towards the natives of the country, and
there is no character in virhich he is more ambitious of ap-
pearing than that of the Friend of India.'

A 'meeting of the British inhabitants was also held for
the same purpose of voting a valedictory address, and of
agreeing upon some fitting memorial whereby to perpetuate
the recollection of the virtues of the departing statesman.
It was held most becomingly on the anniversary of the
battle of Kirkhee, and the speakers dwelt admiringly on
the distinguished part which Mr Elphinstone had borne in
that great historical scene. But that which elicited the
warmest admiration of all was identical with the theme on
which the natives of India had discoursed with so much
gratitude and affection. 'Much higher praise,* said the
Advocate-Greneral, Mr Norton, 'remains to be spoken.
He has exemplified in a signal manner that noble art which
acquires for the conqueror the truest glory — I mean, in
attaching to his sway the people whom he has subdued.
How has the liberal plan of power by which he has go-
verned the Indian provinces, the liberal institutions which
he has founded and supported, the mildne^ of his adminis-
tration, called forth the united voice of the native popula-
tion in a manner altogether unprecedented — a voice far too
]oud to be mistaken or misrepresented ? By the imper-
ceptible introduction of new and fair and liberal laws^

4a6 MOUNTSTUART ELPHtNSTONE. [1897.

which it has been his fortune recently to embodj in one
digested code — hj the access he has afibrded to all ranks
according to their station — he has opened to the sights at
least of our Indian fellow-subjects^ those principles of con-
stitutional power^ which are the best security for national
advancement. But^* added the speaker^ 'I must not be
misunderstood. I am far from attributing to Mr £lphin-
stone the sudden and rash introduction of those visionaiy
schemes of political liberty among this recently reduced
people, which some advocate, or pretend to* advocate-
measures as ill adapted to their habits, feelings, and com-
prehension, as ruinous to their peace. I should hold it an
accusation which no man would be justified in making.
All national improvement to be effectual must be gradual.
We are apt to become warped by our attachment to our
own constitution, and sometimes conceive its principles to
be of universal application. We forget the slow growth of
its highest maxims in this country, and the intellectual me-
ridian in which, and in which alone, according to my no-
tions, they are calculated to shine.*

And these words are more deserving of being held in
remembrance than most words that are spoken at public
meetings, or embodied in complimentary addresses 5 for
they indicate that which was, indeed, the chief element of
Mr £lphinstone*s greatness as an Indian statesman, and the
main source of his success. It has been before observed^
with reference to his administration of the districts ceded
by the Peishwah, that he was not one of those English
functionaries who looked at everything before and around
him through the spectacles of national self-love \ who could

t8a7.] TESTIMONIALS, 427

"see nothiDg good in native institutions, and nothing but
good in European reforms. He carried with him the same
principles to Bombay, and he consistently observed the
same practice 5 and to the very end of his life he protested
against those rash innovations and crude experiments, by
precipitating which a new race of statesmen, bent upon
Anglicizing everything, in season and out of season, were
piling up for themselves and their country a mountain of
future difficulty and disaster.

There was another point of view firom which the services
rendered by Mr Elphinstone to the Bombay communities
were regarded. It was not forgotten that no man had
ever done so much to impart to them a literary tone, and
to encourage the dissemination among all classes both of
Eastern and Western knowledge. These sentiments found
fit exponents in. the ' Literary Society of Bombay,* of
which he had been the honoured president. At a meeting
held shordy after his departure, a speech was made by
Colonel Vans Kennedy, in the course of which he said :
'It was to that instructive intercourse, to that courtesy
with which Mr Elphinstone listened to those with whom
he conversed, to that unassuming and engaging manner
with which he communicated the copious and diversified
stores of his own knowledge, and to the bright example of
his literary excellence, that is principally to be ascribed the
more general diffusion of a literary taste throughout this
Presidency. For it was iinpossible to be admitted into the
society of so highly gifted an individual without admiring
his commanding abilities, and being sensible that literature
most eminently contributed to adorn his richly cultivated

428 AiOUNTSTUART BLPHINSTONB. [iSflj.

mind 5 but what man admires he wishes to imitate, and
though it is not likely that any person could entertain even
the slightest expectation of emulating the numerous acoom-
plishments of Mr £lphinstone, he might still be permitted
to hope that, by cultivating his own mind, he might render
himself more worthy of the notice with which Mr Elphin-
stone honoured him.*

The memorials voted at these meetings took difierent
shapes — some moral, and some material. The representa-
tives of the native communities resolved : ' That the most
satisfactory and durable plan of carrying their wishes into
effect was by accumulating a fund of money, to be invested
in Grovemment securities, from the interest of which,
according to its amount, one or more professorships (to be
held by gentlemen from Great Britain, until the happy
period arrive when natives shall be friliy competent to hold
them) be established, under the Bombay Native Education
Society, for teaching the English language, the arts, sciences,
and literature of Europe, and that these professorships, in
compliment to the person in reference to whom the meeting
has been convened, be denominated the ^' Elphinstone Pro-
fessorships," * with the reservation, however, from the prin-
cipal subscribed of a sufficient sum of money to defray the
expense of a portrait of Mr Elphinstone, to be placed in the
libraxy of the Native Education Society.* The European

»

* There are, at this present time (1867), according to the Bombay
Directory, five Professorships in the Elphinstone College : Logic and
Moral Philosophy — Literature and History — ^Mathematics and Na-
tural Philosophy — Oriental Languages — ^and Chemistry. All are
still hidd by European gendemen.

X827.] TESTIMONIALS. 429

inhabitants concluded their address to Mr £lphinstone by
saying : ' In order to perpetuate by bsten^ble memorials the
remembrance of these sentiments and of the causes which
have produced them^ permit us to request that you will
allow your statue to be sculptured in marble, in order that
it may be erected in a suitable place in Bombay, and to
solicit your acceptance of a service of plate, which will be
prepared and presented to you in England.* And the
Bombay Literary Society voted a memorial bust to be placed
in the Society's rooms. Testimonials of these kinds— busts,
statues, services of plate, and even public foundations — have
in more recent times, been vulgaris^ by thdr frequency.
But when Mountstuart £lphinstone bade farewell to
Bombay, no such honours had ever been lavished in like
degree upon a departing ruler ; and never since have public
admiration and affection so strongly marked the popular
sense of the many-sidedness of a statesman's character.

Having no veiy close family ties in his old home,
Mountstuart Elphinstone was in no great hurry to return
to £ngland 5 so he loitered upon the way, and visited the
lands famous in the page both of the Sacred and the Classic
Historian. In the land of his adoption he had read much
and thought much of those places 5 his imagination had
been kindled by the grand old associations which surrounded
them, and he had longed ardently to see them with the
fleshly eye. So he travelled slowly through Egjrpt, Syria,
and Palestine, and lingered delightedly in Grreece and Italy
•:— thoroughly enjoying, after so many years of stirring
official life, a season of dreamy inactivity in those pleasant
homes of poetry and romance. He was. an enthusiast, and

430 MOUNTSTUART BLPBINSTONB. [zSag^

he carried to those scenes a heart as fresh^ and a fanqr as
warm^ as any stripling's just starting from colle;ge on the
Grand Tour.

Not until the spring of 1829 did he reach £ngland.
He was then fifty years of age 3 he was in the fiill vigour
of his intellect^ and no one ever brought with him from
India a higher reputation. That there was still before him
a career of pubhc usefidness^ either in India or in England,
even more distinguished than that which he had already
accomplished, all men hoped, many believed. But he had
not spent thirty unbroken years in India without paying the
ordinary penalty. He returned to £ngland with shattered
health) and there were certain inward promptings and
warnings which told him that he had done enough work,
and cautioned him not to overtax his powers. There have
been, and ever will be, men regardless of this small voice of
Nature 3 but Mountstuart £lphinstone was not, in the
ordinary sense, an ambitious man. .That he had been
active, energetic, full of high courage, and that he ^was
eminently fitted for public life, has been abimdantly shown ;
but these qualities were now to some extent neutralized by
a want of confidence in his own powers, and a sort of dis-
like to measure himself against others. He shrank from
every kind of self-assertion, and avoided all personal and
party conflicts. Differing in these respects altogether from
Malcolm, he at once decided not to enter upon a parHa-
mentary career. This was, in effect, a self-imposed exclu-
sion from ministerial life in England. He said that he

i8a9-59] OFFER OF THE GOVERNOR-GENERALSHIP, 431

would not have objected to undertake the administrative
duties of the Board of Control^ but that he did not feel
himself competent to stand up in Parliament and satisfac-
torily defend himself and his colleagues.

Twice the Governor-Greneralship of India was ofiered
to Mr Elphinstone^ and twice he refused to accept the
proffered distinction. His refusals were based solely upon
his conviction that the state of his health would not suffer
him to reside in India. ' I have just received — ^he wrote to
that excellent public servant, Mr St George Tucker, on
whom it devolved, as Chairman of the East India Company
at that time (1834), to communicate the wishes of the
Court of Directors — ' I have just received your letter of
yesterday, and I need not say how much I am honoured by
the intention it communicates. As your time is precious,
and clearness indispensable in a case where you may not
have time for further reference, I proceed at once to
answer the question you put. I am still suffering from a
complaint first produced and since renewed by a residence
in hot climates. Part of a summer in Italy was sufficient
to bring it on, and neifher cooler climates nor medicine
have yet been able to remove it. I am certain, therefore,
that I could be of no use in a hot climate, and that the
present state of my health is an effectual bar to my going
to India. I am, on this accoimt, unable to profit by your
offer to name me as one of the candidates (even if I had
no other objection) ) and can only repeat my best thanks
for the honour done me, and for the kindness of your
letter.'

This letter was written from Leamington, where he

43a MOUNTSTUART RLPHINSTONR. [x899r-59i

was seeking renewed health under the care of the ^mous
Dr Jephson. Pressed to reconsider his detenninatiDn, he
wrote again^ three days afterwards (Sept. i, 1834)^ ^^ ^
Tucker : ' My answer to your former letter wa« dictated
entirely by my opinion about my health, and consequently
I scarcely expected that it could be attended bj a nearer
prospect of success ; but the circumstance of your writing
a second time, as well as the very kind manner in which
your letter is expressed, made me anxious to give the fidlest
consideration to a subject in which you took so flattering an
interest. ... I have accordingly taken time to consider,
and have consulted Dr Jephson confidentially as to the
possibility of my bearing a residence in a hot climate 5 but,
although he is sanguine as to my speedy and permanent
recovery, yet I cannot divest myself of the recollection that,
on the on\y two occasions on which I have been exposed to
heat since my first illness, I have had relapses, from one of
which I am not yet recovered at the end of two years' resid-
ence in £ngland 5 and from this fact I feel convinced, that
If I went to India, I should be obliged to return immedi-
ately, and should occasion all th& bad effects of sudden
changes of Government, and, what is still worse, should
not be able to do my duty satisfactorily while I stayed. I
have not, therefore, any hesitation in adhering to my former
opinion, and declining your very gratifying offer. I have,
however, many and sincere thanks to return you for the
favourable view you take of my qualifications, and for your
goodness in affording me an opportunity of reconsiderinfi^
the question.* In another communication to the same
correspondent, he wrote : * I hope you will succeed in

X839-S9-1 ^N RETIREMENT. 433

getting Metcalfe, whose great talents and extensive experi-
ence derive additional value at this monaent from his atten-
tion to economy, and his being so favourably disposed to
most of the measures whicji he virill have to introduce.*

It is not clear that at this time the Whig Government,
if Mr £lphinstone had acceded to the request of the Chair-
man of the £ast India Company, vtrould have consented to
his appointment j for it was their declared opinion — an
opinion based upon a well-known dictum of Mr Can-
ning— that men reared in the service of the Company
were disqualified for promotion to the Govemor-Greneral-
ship. Before the end of the year, however, there was a
change of Government Sir Robert Peel became First
Minister, and Lord Ellenborough was President of the
Board of Control. Again Mr Tucker proposed to the
King's Government that Mr £lphinstone should be nom-
inated Govemor-GJeneral of India, and Lord Ellenborough
cheerfully consented to the proposal. But again Mr
Elphinstone declined the profiered distinction.

From this time Mr Elphinstone came to be regarded as
the Nestor of Indian statesmanship, and very gracefully the
character sat upon him. He had retired with a very moder-
ate fortune, foniie had been in an extreme degree liberal
and munificent in India 5 but having neither wife nor chil-
dren, he had more than sufficient for his very moderate wants.
For upwards of thirty years he lived the life of a private
English gentleman, devpting his time principally to scholarly
pursuits. But, unlike the majority of retired Indian public
servants, he never subsided into insignificance 5 he was

never forgotten. Retiring as were his habits, and unobtrus-
VOL. I. 28

434 AiOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [xda9— ^

ive as was his character^ his opinion was frequently sought
by the leading statesmen of the country, when a difficult
question of Indian policy was to be settled 5 and it generally
happened, that when his advice was not sought, or, if sought,
rejected, there was a mistake to be afterwards bitterly de-
plored. It has often been remarked that, if he had accepted
the Governor-Generalship of India when it was offered to
him in 1834, the disastrous war in Afghanistan would not
have been undertaken. Certain at least it is that he groaned
in spirit over the policy of the expedition, and was scarcely
surprised at its results.

The violent, unprovoked spoliation of Sindh also dis-
turbed his equanimity. He considered the treatment to
which the unfortunate Ameers had been subjected to be
equally cruel and cowardly. Writing to Sir Charles Metcalfe
from his chambers in the Albany (March 14, 1844), ^® made
some emphatic comments on the subject. The letter is
interesting, so I give it in its integrity : ' I have just received
your letter, and only write to thank you for your interesting
account of your situation. God grant you success in the
struggle.* I doubt if you will condescend to. use all
the arts of packing Parliaments on which Lord Sydenham
thought everything depended ; but perhap* men have now
taken broader lines, and will be influenced by more enlarged
modes of action, in which case judgment and firmness will
be of more avail than skill in management, and your victory
will be proportionately more secure. I hoped at one time
that you would have had an easier task. After Sir C.

* The crisis in Canada, of which mention is made in the subse*
quent Memoir of Sir Charles Metcalfe.

x829— S9-] LETTER TO SIR C, METCALFE. 435

Bagot's concessions for which I took it for granted the time
was come, I expected a smooth and gradual descent towards
separation, which in good, time would be very desirable 5
but I never expected the French Canadians to take a plunge
by the result of which they must themselves be by far the
greatest sufferers. ^ If they quarrelled with Great Britain in
the present divided state of the Canadas, what could they
look to but falling into the hands of the Americans, who
(to use Jackson's words) would improve them off the face
of the earth in less time than we take to attack one of their
institutions or prejudices. You must have an arduous and
anxious time, and I do not wonder at your momentary envy
of the quiet of the Albany. If you thought only of your
own comfort and content, or if you were convinced, as I
am, that you were past more useful employment, you might
enjoy your repose with as good a conscience as I do ; but
if I had the energy and ability to fill such a place as yours,
I would not give the few months of your approaching crisis
for a hundred years of unprofitable enjoyment.* I wish you
had said something about your health, of which we had at
one time unfavourable accounts. I do not know if you have
time to think of India. Sindh was a sad scene of insolence
and oppression. Coming after Afghanistan, it put one in
mind of a bully who had been kicked in the streets, and
went home to beat his wife in revenge. It was not so
much Lord Ellenborough's act, however, as his (Jenerars.
Gwalior, as far as we know (for our acquaintance with the
origin of the dispute is very imperfect), seems a compensation

* This passage is quoted also in the Memoir of Sir Charles Met-
calfe.

436 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [iSap— .<>

for our misconduct in Sindh. We seem to have interfered
with propriety, fought a battle that reminds one of old
times, and used our victory with moderation. The heavy
loss must all have been from the guns, for I see Scindiah's
once celebrated infantry now fight with tulwars like the
barbarians of Meeanee. No news here. The Tory vessel
has righted again, and is going swimmingly before the wind.
The reduction of the Three and a Half per Cents, has done
them much good, and I think Peel is in for five years at
least, if 0*Connell's business goes off smoothly, and for life
if it leads to a disturbance.*

He was much grieved, at a later period, by the mani-
festations of that all-devouring 'earth-hunger,* which led
Indian statesmen of high honour and integrity to disregard
the obligations of the British Government to the Native
Princes of India. The long line of annexations,* beginning
with that of the old Mahrattah principality of Sattarah,
which distinguished the administration of Lord Daihousie,
was viewed by him with sentiments of regret, not unmingled
with alarm. 'I do not remember,* writes Sir Edward
Colebrooke, * ever to have seen Mr Elphinstone so shocked
as he was at this proceeding. The treatment of the Sattarah
sovereignty as a jagheer, over which we had claims of feudal
superiority, he regarded as a monstrous one 3 but any opinion
of the injustice done to this family was subordinate to the
alarm which he felt at the dangerous principles which were
advanced, affecting every sovereign state of India, and which
were put forward both in India and at home. The loose
ooaanner in which the claim to regulate such questions as
ioros paramount, and the assertion of feudal claims of

1829- «J9j OPINIONS ON INDIAN POLICY, 437

escheat as applicable to every state in India, were frequently
commented upon, and he particularly dwelt upon the fallacy
which was at the bottom of all the reasoning of the advocates
of resumption, that precedents of interference with succes-
sions as arbiters supported our claim to decide the question
in our own favour/* He wrote a long letter to Sir Edward
Colebrooke on this question of the relations between the
British and the Native Governments, especially in the matter
of successions. The wisdom contained in it was held, by
too many in high authority at the time, to be antiquated
and exploded 5 and even now, I fear, there is small chance
of gaining for it a respectful hearing. ' In answering your
question,* he wrote in February, 18 jo, *as to the general
opinion in India, while I was there, with respect to the
relation between the British Government and the principal
Native States, especially our right to regulate their succes-
sions, I can only speak with certainty of my own impressions 5
but I believe they were those entertained by most of the
other persons employed in transactions between our Grovem-
ment and the Native States. Our relations with the prin-
cipal States (the Nizam, the Peishwah, Stindiah, Holkar,
and Rajah of Berar, &c.) were those of independent equal
Powers, and we possessed no right to interfere in their suc-
cessions, except such as were derived from our treaties with
them, or our situation as a neighbouring State. In many
of the new alliances contracted in Lord Hastings's time, an
alteration was made in the footing on which the contracting
parties stood, by the Native* State engaging to acknowledge
the supremacy of the British Government, and these terms

* Memoir in the Asiatic Journal*

438 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE, [1829—59^

were introduced into treaties with some even of the principal
States (those of the Rajpoot Princes) j but they do not
appear to make any difference in the control of the British
Grovernment over successions. Their object was to secure
the political supremacy of the British (Jovemment, not to
assert its feudal sovereignty, and to obtain the subordinate
co-operation of the Native Prince as an ally, not his subjection
as a vassal. The British Government was to be supreme
in all transactions with foreign States 3 but all internal
affairs were to be regulated as before by the law and usage
of the territory, free from any interference of the British
Grovernment. The succession, I conceive, was an internal
affair, in which the British Government could not interfere
unless in a case which might affect the foreign relations of
the State, or the general tranquillity of the country. This,
I conceive, was the general impression in India when I was
in that country. There was no Native State to which the
recognition of its succession by the British Government was
not of the highest importance 3 but none of them, I conceive,
ever imagined that that Government had a right to regulate
the succession a§ feudal lord, or had any pretensions to the
territory as an escheat on the failure of heirs to the reigning
family. The above is my own conviction on a general
view of the case, and I believe it was the opinion entertained
in India in my time 5 but on this point it can be of no
value, if it does not agree with the views of my remaining
contemporaries, or with those recorded by others at the
time,** When, afterwards, in the latter part of 18 j7, he saw
the results of the innovating system of preceding years, he

♦ Memoir in the Asiatic youmai.

x8a9— 59-1 LITERARY PURSUITS. 439

wrote : ' I think the ardour for the consolidation of territory,
concentration of authority, and uniformity of administration
which was lately so powerful, must have been a good deal
damped by recent events. Where should we have been
if now Scindiah^ the Nizam, the Sikh chiefs^ &:c., had been
annexed^ the subordinate Residencies abolished, the whole
army thrown into one, and the revenue system brought
into one mould, whether that of Lord Cornwallis, Sir T.
Mimro, or even Mr Thomason ? * *

To the latest day of his life, Mr Elphinstone took the
warmest interest in all that related to the current affairs of
India \ but the great solace of his life was in his books. No
man ever loved literature more dearly for its own sake. It
has been shown that, stimulated by Sir John Malcolm^ he
had at a comparatively early period of his career contem-
plated the preparation of a History of India.f During all
the subsequent period of his residence in that country he
had, whenever opportunity was presented to him, collected
materials for this work, and^ now that he was master x)f his
own time, he assiduously devoted himself to its composition.
The results of much good labour had been lost to him by
the burning of the Residency at Poonah, but the years
which had since passed had not been unproductive ; and
when, in the summer of 1834, ^® began seriously and
systematically to write, he had not to commence his re-

* Memoir in the Asiatic Journal,

+ The intention may, perhaps, have been abandoned at a later
period, and revived only after his return to England. Sir E. Cole-
brooke says that * he b^;an to think of an Indian history in January,
1834, and commenced it in earnest in July of the same year.*

440 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONB, [1899—;^

-- - - - - '

searches anew. During a space of five years he laboured
diligently — but not without occasional interruptions — at
this great work^ and completed the history of the Hindoo
and Mahomedan periods. Another year was then devoted
to careful revision and consultation with literary friends.
The publication of the book was undertaken by Mr
Murray, and in the spring of 1841 the public were grati-
fied by* its appearance. The highest critical authorities
received it with admiring respect 5 and it at once took its
place among the best standard works of historical literature.
It was hoped, and, indeed, for some time expected, that
Mr £lphinstone would continue his labours, and add to
his History of the Hindoo and Mahomedan dynasties in
India a narrative of the rise and progress of British suprem*
acy in the East. But, if this formed part of his original
design, it was soon abandoned. It was stated during the
debates on the India Bill of 1853, by a young and ardent
member of the House of Commons, who had distinguished
himself 2A 3. leader of the India Reform party, that the
£ast India Company, alarmed by the prospect of a fearless^
truth-speaking narrative of their misdeeds, had set up one
of their clerks to forestall him, and so to keep him out of
the field. I happened to call on Mr Elphinstone on the
following morning, at an hotel in Jermyn-street, when the
conversation turned upon this statement, and another^
scarcely less eccentric, concerning one of my own books.
Mr Elphinstone then told me, with characteristic modesty,
that he had written an account of the Hindoo and Maho-
medan periods of Indian history because he had materials
not readily accessible to other writers, but that when he

1839—59-] UTERARY DIFFIDENCE.] 44i

approached the period of British rule^ it appeared to him
that he had no exclusive information^ and no peculiar
qualifications for such a task,- and that he willingly left
its execution to younger heads and younger hands than his
own.

But although he had ceased to be, in any large active
fense, a literary workman, he was ever ready to assist
others, and many works, illustrative of the history or to-
pography of India and the adjacent countries, which ob-
tained publio favour during the twenty years preceding Mr
Elphinstoue's death, were benefited greatly by his critical
advice, or by the infonnation which he was able to furnish
to the author. He took great interest in the labours, not
only of his old friends — as Mr William £rskine, who had
still the oar in his hand — but of younger aspirants, as
Alexander Bumes, the manuscript of whose first book of
travels was read by the veteran statesman.* To the
writer of these sketches he rendered, on more than one
occasion, valuable assistance, and with a ready kindliness
which doubled the obligation. As a judge of literary comr
position, his tendencies were at one time towards a severe
chastity of language 5 but, at a later period, he used some-
times to lament that writers on Indian subjects had done
so little to popularize them by imparting to. them the at-
tractions of an animated and picturesque style, for, * after
all,' he said, ' books are meant to be read.* If he did not
himself think that he had done injustice to his own powers^

* In a Memoir of Sir Alexander Bumes, in the second volume
of this work, more 'detailed mention will be found of Mr £lphi»
stone's criticisms.

44a MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [189^—55.

it was only because he habitually under-estimated them.*
It is remarkable that Mr Elphinstone^ though he does
not seem to have been conscious of the existence in his
own character of this undue diffidence, was keenly alive to
its effects in others. Writing to me in 18 jj, in reply to
some questions which I had put to him respecting the
literary career of the late Mr William Erskine, he said : ' 1
need not enlarge on his literary merits, of which you can
judge for yourself, but I must mention one of his quaHties^
which would have been an ornament to the others if it had
not been carried to an excess, which made it affected. This
was his modesty and distrust of himself, which concealed
the extent of his abilities from all but those who had pe-
culiar opportunities of knowing them, and which cramped
the exertion of his powers even in the writings which he
laid before the public. In none of his publications is the
iU effect of this defect so conspicuous as in that you are
reviewing, where it is aggravated by a scrupulous attention
to accuracy even in minute particulars, which took up a
great deal of time that might have been much better em-

• I am confirmed in this by the following observations of Sir
Edward Colebrooke : * In commencing a great literaxy work late in
life he laboured under great disadvantages, and I think they are to
be traced in the composition and style of this well-known work. It
has alwajrs strudc me that the style of his published works is veiy in-
fierior in force to that of his letters, and still more so to that of his
conversation, and does not do justice to the vigour and originality of
his mind. He used to speak of his history modestly as a contribution
to the great subject he had taken in hand, that might aid the work of
some future man of genius, and this diffidence of his own powen.
affects the tone of the work.'

i8a9— 59-] LITERARY DIFFIDENCE. 443

ployed^ and tends to damp the zeal of genera] readers^ who
would have had pleasure in listening to the author's own
conclusions and the reflections they suggested^ but have no
relish for a study that requires so much attention -in pro-
portion to the result produced. His original plan was to
write the history of the Mogul Empire under Aurungzebe
only, and it is a great pity he did not adhere to this design.
That ]ong reign would have begun with the empire in its
highest state of perfection, and would have included its
decline and fall, together with the state of its government
and institutions nearly as they were when we found them,
and had to construct a new system on their base. The
greatness and variety of the events, and the comprehensive
views necessary to explain and accoimt for them, would, in
a manner, have forced Mr Erskine into a wider field of
discussion than he has entered into in his present history^
and for which in reality, he was particularly well qualified.
This last fact is shown by other writings much shorter, and
probably executed in comparatively shorter time. Exam^
pies of these occur to me in his contributions to the Literary
Society of Bombay. I have not the book to refer to, but
I remember two or three on the Hindoo and Buddhist
caves, where, in pointing out the means of distinguishing
them from each other, that of getting a near approximation
to the dates of Hindoo works by the stages of their religion
indicated by the acts of the gods and heroes exhibited in
the sculptures, led him into disquisitions which at that time
(before the appearance of Wilson's principal works, or of
those of Colebrooke published in the Transactions of the
Royal Asiatic Society in London, after Mr E.'s return

444 MOUNTSTUART BLPHINSTONE, [xSa^r-S^

•

home, and of several other publications on the same sub-
ject) were really new and striking. His account of the
present religion of the Parsees, with a comparison of it
with that of their ancestors, as shown by Herodotus and
other ancients, was also remarkable, as were his arguments
against the authenticity of the "Desutlr,'* and his opinions
on a variety of questions which it led to, combated at. the
time in the same Transactions by Mr Raske (since very
eminent among continental Orientalists), but now, I be-
lieve, adopted by all late writers. These, and his account
of the portion of the Tartar nations which lay beyond the
field of the literati employed by the Russian Govern-
ment, show his capacity for generalization and speculation,
when he ventured to indulge in them.* Mutatis mutandis,
the greater part of this letter might have been written with
reference to the author of it himself.

But although he never ceased to take interest in Ori-
ental Uterature, it may be doubted whether his chief delight
was not in the study of the great works of classic literature^
and the later fi-uits of ItaHan and £nglish genius. He was
very Catholic in his literary sympathies, but he leant most
fondly towards the imaginative. He would converse with
a companion of kindred tastes for long hours on ancient
and modern poetry, exchanging quotations and criticisms^
and delighting, above all things, in running down parallel
passages in the writings of the great masters of different
eras and different countries.* He was a great reader, too,

• Sir K Colebrooke says : * His love for poetry amounted to a
passion. He would discuss his favourites with the enthusiasm of a
boy, and one of the last occasions on which he left home was to. visit

X8V-S9-] AT HOOKWOOD. 445

of the best periodical literature of the day ^ and he used to
say that new books^ and good books too, chased each other
so rapidly from the press, that the panting student toiled
after them in vain, and that it was necessary, therefore, to
pick up knowledge second-hand from the reviews.

During many of the last years of his life Mr Elphinstone
resided at Limpsfield, on the Surrey Hills, between God-
stone, in that county, and Westerham, in Kent. His re-
sidence was a modest coimtry-house known as Hookwood,
surrounded by a pleasant little home park \ altogether a
charming place for a literary recluse. He was very glad
to welcome thither men, whether his old Indian friends, or
younger men who had attained some sort of distinction
since his retirement firom public life, if they evinced any
anxiety to meet him. And such was the kindliness of his
nature, that he ever made it appear to his visitors — even to
the youngest and least distinguished among them — that
they were conferring honour upon him by seeking him
out in his privacy. He was one of the least ostentatious and
egotistical of men. He never talked about himself, unless
directly asked for information relating to some of the
leading circumstances of his career. Indeed, he appeared
to some people to be rather in the habit of fencing and
evading any direct inquiries of a personal character, but

in Cornwall the scenes of King Arthur's battles. There was in his
character a tinge of enthusiasm which, as he once confessed to me»
led him to cherish dreams of ambition of the wildest kind. The
force of his imagination, cherished by his love of poetry, affected his
thoughts, gave a grace and charm to his conversation, but never in-
fluenced his judgment. The late Allan Cmmingham truly described
him to me as the most just thinking man he ever knew.'

446 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE, [1899— 59,

there was nothing studied or intentional in this : it was
merely a general inaptitude to perceive that anything re-
lating only to himself could be a matter of much interest
to his companion. But when convinced of the wishes of
the inquirer, and roused by references to past events, his
reserve would pass away, his memories would be kindled,
and he would talk delightfully about the old times long
ago, when he rode beside Wellesley at Assye, or was l)umt
out of the Residency at Poonah.

There are many living who now look back to those
days at Hookwood as amongst the pleasantest reminiscences
of their lives 5 who can follow the venerable statesman
from his library to his drawing-room, from his drawing-
room to his breakfast-room, and remember how from mom
to noon, from noon almost to midnight, he would converse
with his guest (it was his disposition to adhere rather to
the singular number) upon an infinite variety of topics, and
send his privileged companion to bed a far wiser man than he
was when he had risen in the morning. But he was not what
is commonly called a great talker, and he never indulged in
monologue. He was emphatically a good listener. For many
3rears before his death his eyesight had failed him greatly,
and unless some member of his family were residing with
him, he was obliged to obtain the assistance of a hired
reader 3 and perhaps this drawback made him take an in-
creased pleasure in literary conversation. There was always
a large flow of enthusiasm in his nature, and I believe
that the most enthusiastic of his visitors pleased him best.
He was so thoroughly a gentleman, that be could not have
exhibited his impatience of any kind of dulness y but I

i829— S9-] POLITICAL OPINIONS. 447

rather think that he chafed considerably when he found
himself face to face with it.

From this pleasant state of meditative inaction^ ab-
sorbed in the amenities of the Past^ he was roused to a painful
sense of the stem realities of the Present, by tidings of the
great Indian rebellion, which startled the world in the
summer of 1857. The interest which he took in the pro-
gress of those events was intense ; and an expression of his
opinion was invited by his friends, not only with respect to
the rebellion itself but to the action of the British Parlia-
ment, in consequence of the unjust clamour which had
been raised against the East India Company. From a letter
which he wrote in the autumn of this year to Sir Edward
Colebrooke, I take the following characteristic passages :
* Notwithstanding the liability of the House of Commons
to be carried away by the madness of the moment during
a popular delusion, I don't think either they or their con-
stituents are so thoughtless as to sanction a revolution in
the Government of India at a moment like the present
Leaving out aU other objections, only imagine the probable
effect of announcing to people who have been driven into

■

rebellion by the very thought of being made Feringhees,
that thenceforward their rights were to be sectfred by placing
them under the immediate protection of the Queen, thus
incorporating them with the British nation, and admitting
them to a share in all the blessings by which it is distinguished
from the nations of the East. Yet this is the language
which many writers of the day recommend as a specific
for soothing all minds, and removing all doubts and sus-
picions. There is a good article in yesterday's Times on

448 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [1899—59

the other side of the question, from which I suppose that
they (the editors) believe the mind of the Ministry is made
up to keep things as they are for the present. The kst
accounts firom India are, doubtless, very gloomy 5 the risk
of fresh interests and new feelings arising during the interv^
of inaction is certainly very great, and to one who has just read
Munro*s admirable Minute,^ it appears that the full accom-
plishment of his prophecy is at hand. But there is some
comfort in the recollection how often foreign Governments
have kept their ground in worse circimistances than ours.
I will only mention the case of Rome, which was a much
more oppressive Grovernment than ours, and had tougher
materials to work on in Spain and Gaul, and higher notions
of fi'eedom and national independence to contend with in
Greece and her o^ts, than we are ever likely to see among
our Asiatic subjects. I have often wished to get some know-
ledge of the sort of administration by which the Romans
contrived to fix their power on so firm a basis, but although
it is easy to find out the framework of a Grovernment in a
province, I do not find any clue to the means by which it
was administered. I suppose that what we do know is
equivalent to a knowledge of the constitutions of the Pre-
sidencies in India, together with the law as administered
by the Supreme Court, and a revenue system founded on
farming to English capitalists 5 while all the details of legisla-
tion as well as administration were left to the natives, and
managed by native Princes or by local municipalities. Can
you tell me where information on this subject is to be

• The Minute on the effect of a Free Press on the Native Army,
which had been lately republished.

*8a9— 59-] POUTICAL OPINIONS, 449

Ibund ? I suppose it must be well ascertained afler all thf^.
researches by German and other scholars in late times. If
you never read the account in Polybius of the mutiny of tlie
mercenaries, which nearly overthrew the Government of
-Carthage, it will interest you in the present time. It dif-
fered in its origin and many details from ours, but still you
will be struck with the analogy in many particulars. I
read it in Hampton*s translation, where it is near the
beginning of the first volume. It is not long.' *

The last great public question, to which he gave much
serious attention, was the reconstruction of the Home
GJovernment of India consequent on the abolition of the
governing powers of the East India CJompany. He did
not, as may be gathered from the preceding letter, look
kindly at the innovation. He feared that the influence of
the Court and the authority of the Ministry of the day
might be put to corrupt uses 5 and he was exceedingly
anxious, therefore, that the Secretary of State should be
controlled by a strong, and, as ^ as possible, an independ-
ent Council. His views may be gathered from the fol-
lowing passages of his correspondence with Sir Edward
Colebrooke: 'March i, 18 j8. — ^The great grievance at
present is the disregard of the Governors-General to the
repeated injunctions of the Court of Directors against
plans of conquest, and other modes of extending our
territory. Such disregard is not likely to be tolerated on
the new plan. The Minister for India will be the sole
ostensible head of the whole administration of that empire,
and it is not probable that he will be content to submit to
* l/Lemoixm Journal of the Asiatk Society.

VOL, I. 29

4SO MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [1839-59.

the obscurity which the President of the Board of Control
used to court. His object used to be to avoid all disputes
that might bring the separate action of the Ministry in
Indian affairs before the House of Commons^ and to do
this he was obliged to deal with the Court of Directors in
a way that weakened the authority of both, and left the
Grovemor-General pretty nearly his own master. I imagine
that the practice at that time was for the Court of Direct-
ors to check the Govemor-Greneral when they thought it
right, and for the Board of Control to support him j that
the Board generally carried its point, and that even when
it gave way and allowed the official instructions to be
drawn according to the wish of the Directors, there was
always a private correspondence between the President and
the Governor-General, that emboldened the latter to pursue
his own views without much fear of the consequences.
All this will now cease, and my fears are not for the present,
but for the future, when attention will be withdrawn fi-om
India, and when a weak and unscrupulous Ministry may
send « out devoted adherents of its own to the Supreme
Grovernment, through whom it may employ the patronage
of India for party purposes, supporting the measures c^ its
creature through thick and thin in return. Against such a
design, no restrictions afforded by an exclusive service,
examinations, competition, conditions of previous residence
in India, &c., will be of the least avail. The public is
always averse to monopolies, and will support all infrac-
tions of those protective regulations which, moreover, will
be introduced gradually and almost unperceived.— ^March
and. The above was written yesterday, but my eyes got

i829-Sp] POLITICAL OPINIONS. 451

so tired and my scrawl so illegible^ that I thought it would
be a relief to 70U, as well as to myself, to leave off, and
have a fair copy made for your use. I am afraid you will
find it very unsatisfactory after all. The only effectual
check that I can see either on the Governor-General or the
Ministry at home is a Board of Council, formed by elec-
tion, if possible, but at all events conducting its business
entirely separate from the Minister for India. Even if
we had such a Boards there would remain the difficulty of
getting members who would take a lively interest in India,
viewed separately from Great Britain, and who would
attend to the peculiar views and wishes of the natives, as
well as to their pecuniary interests and strictly legal rights.
The Company did so to a considerable extent, because it
had long regarded India as its own, and was strongly
opposed to the maxim now in favour of 'India for the
English.* Sooner or later, we must introduce natives into
the Council itself, or at least into the electing body, but
to do so now would only produce contention and embarrass

future operations,* 'April 30, 18 j8. What is chiefly

wanted of the Coimcil is, that it shall supply the place of
the Court of Directors, in protecting the interests, opinions,
and feelings of the natives against the conflicting interests,
opinions, and feelings of the ruling people. However
selfish the original motive of this jealousy of European
encroachment may have been on the part of the Directors,
it became their 'traditional policy,** and has been one great
cause of their unpopularity. Now, I think the main-
tenance of this policy is exactly the line which a well-
•elected Coimcil of Indians would choose for their peculiar

4Sa ' MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE, [i8a9-:S^

province. Their other duty would be to guard against
attempts of the Ministry to undermine the constitution, or
to take steps directly injurious to the interest c^ the British
nation. This they would not neglect, but they would feel
how little their aid was wanted at a time when the popular
element of the constitution was so decidedly in the ascend-
ant 3 while in undertaking the protection of the Indian
nation they would have a vast field for usefulness and dis-
tinction which at present is almost entirely unoccupied. It
is indeed astonishing, considering how much our own safety
depends on the contentment of our Indian d^endents,
that in all the late discussions there has not been a single
speaker of note, except Gladstone, that has laid the least
stress on this part of the subject. They probably rely
on the Indian (Government for looking to public opinion
among the natives, but what could the strongest Indian
Government do against a clamour for levying a new tax
(say an income-tax) on India, to make up for the deficit
occasioned by its own expenses, including the Persian and
Chinese wars, and many other charges in which the people
of India take quite as little concern ? * In this latter extract
Mr Elphinstone very clearly defines one of the most im-
portant functions of the Council of India — namely, the
protection of the general interests of the Indian people,
and more especially the guardianship of the Indian purse«
From the former passage, it will be seen, that he was
anxious to give some power of independent action to the
Council, and from other letters it is apparent that he was
strongly in favour of vesting the initiative not in the Minis-
ter but in the Council. This last opinion was shared by

1S59.] HIS DEATH. 453

nearly all the ablest and most experienced men who gave
their thoughts to the consideration of the best mode of
reconstructing the Indian Government. And when the
new system was established, the conduct of the public
business was regulated in accordance with this principle.
But it was found, after a brief trial, that too much was
sacrificed to a theory. The results of this mode of pro-
cedure were developing themselves when Sir Charles Wood,
whose great administrative ability was never questioned
even by his political opponents, assumed the office of
Indian Minister, and he hit the blot at once. It has since
been cheerfully acknowledged, by some of the warmest
advocates of the principle advocated by Mr Elphinstone,
that its abandonment has proved to be a palpable good.

This was, I believe, the last public question regarding
which Mr Elphinstone expressed his opinions in detail.
His end, indeed, was now approaching. It came suddenly,
as, perhaps, he wished it to come; for it is said that he
dreaded the thought of a protracted existence, after the
decay of his intellectual powers. Before any one had learnt
that he was not in his accustomed health, news came that
Mountstuart Elphinstone was dead. He died at Hook-
wood, in his eightieth year, on the 20th day of November,
1859, and was buried in the parish church of Limpsfield.
Although he had retired from public life for a period of
more than thirty years, he passed away from amongst us as a
man who had been to the last in harness. He had friends
and admirers in all parts of the country; and when it wait
known that he was dead, they held a public meeting m
London, and many of our leading English statesmen

454 MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE. [1859.

attended to do honour to his memory. It was trolj a
remarkable fact that its freshness had never passed away.
Men spoke of him at that meeting as of one who had been
working for India^ guiding its councils, to the very last day
of his life. And perhaps this is the very highest praise that
could be oes^owed upon him. I do not know another in-
stance of cne great and honourable of the land meeting
fogether to vote a public statue to a man who had ceased
for more than a quarter of a century to take a part in public
affairs. But at the meeting of which I now speak there
was as much enthusiasm as if Elphinstone had just returned
from India> and died with the sword of action in his hand.

There are some men whose characters it is easy to
describe, others whose characters it is not necessary to de-
scribe at all, so distinctly are their inner natures illustrated
by their outward utterances and actions. But neither the
utterances nor the actions of Mountstuart Elphinstone will
lead us along any beaten road to a right knowledge of his
character. We must wander into many intricate byways
and obscure recesses if we would endeavour to arrive at a
right understanding of it j and even then we may find our-
selves in a maze. There are many conflicts and incon-
sistencies, which it is difficult to reconcile otherwise than
by a reference to physical causes. In the lives of few men
is there apparent so great a disproportion between what
they have done and what they have been held to be capable
of doing. I have more than once spoken of Mr Elphin-
stone's modesty and diffidence, and I have suggested that

x829— 59>] ///•!> CHARACTER, 455

he was not stirred by any very active ambition. And yet
there was assuredly, at one period of his life, an almost
morbid vanity — a desire to shine in many diverse and an-
tagonistic ways — which those who knew him only in the
decline of life, when years had brought the philosophic
mind, found it difficult to understand. General Briggs has
related that Mr Elphinstone ' had an innate pride of not
being excelled by any one in manly habits. It happened
while he was Governor at Bombay, and on a visit to
Poonah on business, an old friend arrived from a long
journey, in which, owing to his palanquin-bearers failing,
he was compelled to adopt the unusual habit (to Europeans)
of travelling several hundred miles on a camel. Mr Elphin-
stone questioned him closely as to the mode of manage-
ment of this uncouth animal, its paces, and the sensation.
He was assured that nothing was easier than its manage-
ment, that its pace was by no means unpleasant, and that
he came at the rate of forty miles a day and upwards,
without as much fatigue as if he had been on horseback.
Mr Elphinstone was not then aware that in Rajpootana the
European officers used camels in preference to horses in
making long marches, and they were used in cantonments
to pay morning visits. Some days after this, it was dis-
covered that Mr Elphinstone had, during the very night
after the above conversation with his fHend, ordered
a riding-camel to be brought to his tent, and, accom-
panied by another camel hurcarah, mounted and rode
several miles during moonlight to satisfy himself of the
sensation of riding on a camel. During a journey into the
southern Mahratta country some time afterwards, he went

4S6 MOUNTSTUA-RT ELPHINSTONE, [1829—59*

to visit the celebrated Falls of the Gutparba, at Gohauk.
The river was full, and the fall of sixty feet formed an arch
of several feet from the almost perpendicular rock over
which the cataract rushes. He was standing, with his
Staff, about half way down the precipice, opposite a
narrow ledge which projected from one side to the
other. Whilst admiring the scene, one of the party ob-
served that a certain officer (mentioning his name) had
walked across this narrow, slippery, and dangerous ledge:
Mr Elphinstone immediately turned round to the speaker^
and said, " Are you sure ? '* and on the fact being confirmed,
Mr Elphinstone said, "Well, then, let you and me try if
we cannot do so also /* and he instantly led the way, all the
Staff being necessarily obliged to follow his example.* And
the same authority adds : ' This desire to excel in every-
thing that was manly which we have referred to, was
carried at this period of his life to a degree that bordered
on eccentricity. In his horror of luxury, he made exer-
tions to dispense with what he thought superfluous articles
of clothing, and this practice must have contributed to
injure his otherwise strong constitution. For several months
he attempted to dispense with the luxury of a bed. The
relation to whom he mentioned this, asked him, with
simplicity, the reason for such conduct. '* Because I was
a fool ! '* was the immediate reply.*

A man who plays tricks with his constitution in his
younger days is sure to suffer in his later ones 5 and so it
happened that Mountstuart Elphinstone, after his return to
England, though still in the prime of his life, had many
distressing warnings that the climate of India had done its

x8a^— S9-J -^^'5' CHARACTER, 417

work upon nim. It is curious that a man should be Aiore
ambitious to stick a pig, to ride on a camel^*^ or to walk upon
a precipice, than to govern a vast empire j but experience
teaches us that such phenomena are hy no means of rare
occurrence. I cannot, however, bring myself to think that
Elphinstone was a man only pf small ambitions 5 and,
therefore, I adopt the conclusion that his unwillingness to
accept high office, during the last thirty years of his life,
proceeded only from a consciousness that he had not
physical capacity for futher officers work. There fell
upon him in Europe an excess of languor, amounting
almost to indolence, which contrasted strongly with the
active and energetic habits of his earlier days. He had a
prevailing sense that if he took upon himself, in India or
in England, large responsibilities, he would break down j
and year afler year he felt a growing desire for retirement
and ease. It was not that he thought of himself. It was
that he had a painful apprehension that the interests of the
public service might be jeopardized by his failure, at a
critical moment, to discharge the great duties intrusted to
him. And so it happened that with the very highest re-
putation as an Indian statesman he never made for himself
a place in History commensurate with the capacity for
which the world has given him credit, and, as I believe,
which he possessed, to shape th^ destinies of an empii^.

* If the reader will turn to page 541, he will find it stated, on
the authority of Dr. Goodall, that Charles Metcalfe, the worst horseman
ever known, rode on a camel when a boy at Eton, though Mountstuart
Elphinstone, a mighty hunter, was never, it seems, on camel-back
until he was Governor of Bombay.

458 htOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE, [1859.

One thing, however, is certain, that, as I write, his authority
on all questions of Indian government is commonly ac-
cepted as the highest that can be quoted, and that no man's
memory is regarded with greater veneration by all who
have given their minds to the study of the great questions
to which Mountstuart Elphinstone devoted his lif ^

459

THE REV. HENRY MARTYN.

[born Z78Z.— DtBD Z8Z3.]

ON the seventh day of February, in the year 181 1, m
one of the monasteries of Goa, the capital of Portu-
guese India, two English gentlemen stood before the tomb
of Francis Xavier, Not that the great apostle of the Gen-
tiles had died there, for he had endured his last earthly
pangs far away on the Island of Sancian, at the mouth of
the Canton river j but that an admiring people had raised
there a monument to his memory, richly ornamented and
surrounded with pictures and bronzes, the produce of Italian
art. Of the visitors who stood at that shrine, and listened
to the words of the friar who acted as its custodian, one was
the statesman, the story of whose life has just been con-
cluded. The other, a slight, thin-faced man, about thirty
years of age, with a hectic flush on his cheek, was a priest
of the English Church, then on his way from Calcutta to

46o THE REV, HRl^RY MARTY N. [1781—95.

Bombay. An enthusiast himself^ he could not think with-
out emotion of the grand enthusiasm of the Christian
knight, who, more than two centuries and a half before,
had left the world behind him and abandoned all things for
the love of God. With all the outward grandeur of the
Romish Church before him, still, rejoicing in his purer
faith, he thought humbly and reproachfully of the little that
he had done, measured against the great deeds of that Rom-
ish giant. And yet was Henry Martyn, for all his feeble-
ness of frame, cast in the same heroic mould as Francis
Xavier.

It has become a mere platitude now, that the world has
seen many heroes who have never girded go. a sword or
listened to the roar of the battle. A truth so accepted needs
no demonstrations. Little need is there to show how the
courage, the devotion, the self-sacrifice, the grand sense of
duty, which make the heroic character, are found beneath
the coif of the Priest as beneath the helm of the Warrior.
It is given to some to do ; to others only to bear : to some,
to strike for the right j to others, to witness to the truth.
' Never,* it has been said, ' did the polytheism of ancient or
of modem Rome assign a seat among the demigods to a hero
of nobler mould or of more exalted magnanimity than
Francis Xavier.* And again the same writer : ' Amidst all
the discords which agitate the Church of England, her schis
are unanimous in extolling the name of Henry Martjm.
And with reason ^ for it is, in fact, the one heroic name
which adorns her annals, from the dajrs of Elizabeth to our
own.* * Fitly, then, in itself, is this ' one heroic name ' in the

• Sir James Stephen.

1781— 9S0 PARENTAGE AND EARLY EDUCATION. 461

annals of the Anglican Church placed at the head of this
chapter^ and more fitly than any other, because it helps at
this early stage to illustrate the many-sidedness of the Eng-
lish heroism which has flowered beneath the Indian sun.

Henry Martyn came of a humble stock. In that rich
ore country about Truro and Redruth, his father once toiled
as a simple miner 3 but raising himself above the level, by
his industry and intelligence, he obtained a seat in a mer-
chant's office, and, appreciating at its true worth the value
of that which had done so much for him, he determined to
give to his children in early youth that which he had
acquired so painiidly in adult life, and, by good thrift, pro-
vided the means of bestowing upon them the blessings of a
good education. But it pleased God, who gave him many
children, that there should not be many spared for whom to
make this provision. There was a constitutional weakness
in the ^mily, and Death laid its hands upon the childhood
of the brothers and sisters of Henry Martyn, so that four
only of the fiock ever lived to see man*s estate. And Henry
himself was but a weakly, delicate nursling, whose little life
needed much care to save it from flickering out in the morn-
ing of its existence. But he struggled through infancy and
childhood, and went to the Truro Granunar School ; and
for nine years, under the tutorial care of Dr Cardew, he
gathered up the by no means contemptible stock of learning
which was accessible to the students in that provincial insti-
tution.

The school-days of Henry Martyn were not happy. He
was not, indeed, bom for happiness. He lacked the puerils
robustness and the effervescent animal spirits which make

468 THE REV, HENRY MARTY N, 1x^95,

the season of school-life a season of carelessness and joy.
There is more or less of tyranny in every school 5 and Henry
Martyn> being of feeble frame and of somewhat petulant
temper, was bullied by his stronger schoolfellows. It would
have fared still worse with him but for the generous protec-
tion of one of the bigger boys, who helped him with his
lessons, and fought his battles for him, and often rescued
him from the grasp of his juvenile oppressors.

It is not recorded of him that at this time, though he
took but little part in the sports and amusements of boyhood,
he was inordinately addicted to study. He was docile and
quick to learn, but he acquired no veiy remarkable scholastic
reputation. His father, however — a shrewd and discerning
man — ^had always great hopes of him. It was the cherished
wish of the elder Martyn*s heart that his son should have ft
collie education. So, in the autunm of I795> when
scarcely fifteen years old, he sent Henry to Oxford to try
for a Corpus scholarship. Bearing a single letter of intro-
duction to one of the tutors of the University, he set out
alone on what was then a long and wearisome, and, for one
of his weakness and susceptibility, a somewhat formidable
journey. But there was in young Henry Martyn even then
a remarkable sense of self-reliance — ^a remarkable power of
self-support. In his quiet, undemonstrative way, he had
an immense capacity for going through with anything that
he undertook. Thus thrown upon his own resoiu'ces whilst
yet a boy, he acquired confidence in his own strength.
Obtaining a set of rooms in Exeter CoUege, without enter-
ing as an undergraduate, he prepared himself for the com-
petition j but although he passed an excellent examination.

X79S— 97-J SCHOOL AND COLLEGE. 463.

and was much commended^ he did not obtain the scholar-
ship. So he went back to Truro, carrying with him his
first great disappointment.

Bat how manj of us in after life have the privilege of
feeling that, by Grod*s good providence, our first great dis-
appointment has been our first great blessing. Thankfully
did Henry Martyn acknowledge this fi*om the very depths
of his heart. ' Had I remained (at Oxford),' he wrote, ' and
become a member of the University at that time, as I should
have done in case of success, the profligate acquaintances I
had there would have introduced me to scenes of debauchery
in which I must, in all probability, from my extreme youth,
have sunk for ever.' But even if he had not sunk into this
deep mire, he would never have formed those associations
which made him what he was : he would never, as far as
we can in our weakness discern the ways of God to man,
have been an apostle and a hero.

Cambridge made him what he was. After another year
or two at the Truro Grammar School, Henry Martyn
entered at St John's College, and took up his residence there
in October, 1797. He went to the sister University with a
considerably larger store of classical learning than he had
carried with him to Oxford, but with small knowledge of
mathematics. He had never much addicted himself to the
exact sciences 5 and ev^i after this Cambridge career had
been marked out for him, he spent, according to his own
account, more time in shooting birds and reading amusing
books than in studjring algebra and geometry. It is worthy
of notice for the very grotesqueness of the contrast it sug-
gests, that the book which young Henry Martyn on the

464 THE REV, HENRY MARTYN. [1797.

threshold of his Universily life studied most intently, was
Lord ChesterfieUT s Letters to his Son. Whether accident
threw the book in his way, or whether the son of the Com •
ish miner thought that he might be wanting in some of
those exterior graces which should fit him to take his place
at the University among men of high birth and high breed-
ing, is not apparent} but assuredly the great master of
worldhness never had a more unworldly pupiL Yet was
there something that he might have learnt from this book.
He, who wrote of the Saviour of mankind, that he wai

* The first true gentleman that ever lived,*

gave utterance to a practical truth which, I fear, has been
sometimes forgotten by his disciples. In that politeness,
which is the outward expression of charity and love, Henry
Martyn was sometimes wanting.

The commencement of his Cambridge career was not
promising. What conceivable hope is there of an under-
graduate who gets up his mathematics by endeavouring to
conmiit the problems of Euchd to memoiy ? But such was
Henry Mart)m*s commencement. How at last the power
of demonstration entered into his mind, and took such ^st
hold of it, that he whose notion of the exact sciences was of
something to be learnt by rote, at last developed into the
Senior Wrangler of his year, is a chapter of the secret his-
tory of the human understanding that will never be revealed
to man. It is something altogether mysterious and surpris-
ing. All that we know distinctly about it is, that this
young Cornish undergraduate took to the study of Newton's
Principia, liking it much better than the study of the Bible

1797—98] LIFE AT CAMBRIDGE. 465

and that in time he came to take delight in what had before
been utterlj distastefiil to him. Then it dawned upon him
that he might take honours \ and to that end he began to
study with all his might.

It was a happy circumstance^ and one not to be omitted
from the scantiest record of Henry Martyn's life, that at
Cambridge he renewed his acquaintance with his old cham-
pion of the Truro Grammar SchooL The big boy who
had fought his battles for him was now a steady young man,
with plenty of good advice for his little friend, and what
was better, a good example. He kept Martyn out of the
way of wickedness, and told him that he ought to read hard,
' not for the praise of men, but for the glory of Grod.* ' This
seemed strange,* wrote Martyn, some time afterwards, ' but
reasonable. I resolved, therefore, to maintain this opinion
thenceforth J but never designed, that I remember, that it
should afiect my conduct.* But such is the inscrutable per-
verseness of memoir-writers, who so often give us names
that we do not want to know, and conceal from us those of
the persons who most interest us, that the identity of this
excellent friend, who did so much to save Martyn's body at
school, and to save his soul at college, is shrouded from the
world in the obscurity of the letter K.

Of the undergraduate life of Henry Martyn not much
has been recorded or can now be ascertained. One noticeable
incident, however, did occur, which well-nigh brought his
academical career to a disastrous close. He was constitu-
tionally petulant and irritable j and was sometimes wrought
even by little things into such a state of excitement as to be

scarcely master of himself. One day, from some cause or
VOL. I. 30

4»6 THE REV, HENRY MARTYN, [1799.

Other not chronicled, the vehemence of his anger rose to
such a height, that he flung a knife with all his force at a
friend who had said or done something to cross hinu In
the bhndness of his fury he missed his mark, and the knife
entered the opposite wall, where it remained trembling with
the violence of the concussion. The friend who so narrowly
escaped was Mr Cotterill, afterwards minister of St Paul's,
Sheffield.

In this painfully excitable state, it does not seem that
even the repose of the vacation, the solace of home, and the
kindness of his family, did anything to soothe bis troubled
spirit. During the long vacation of i799> according to bis
own statement, his temper was more unbearable than ever.
*The consummate selfishness and exquisite irritability of my
mind,' he wrote at a later period, ' were displayed in rage,
mahce, and envy 5 in pride and vainglory, and contempt of
all i in the harshest language to my sisters, and even to my
father, if he happened to differ from my wish and wilL Oh,
what an example of patience and mildness was he!* One
of his sisters, too, was a young woman of signal piety, but her
admonitions were lost upon him. The sound of the gospel,
conveyed in the admonition of a sister, was, he said, grating
to his ears. He promised her, however, that he would read
the Bible 3 but when he returned to college * Newton en-
gaged all his thoughts.*

And, academically, he worked to good purpose. At the
Christmas examination of l^gg, he was first of his year.
The news deUghted his father 5 but it was the last earthlj
solace that he was ever to derive firom that source. The new
year had scarcely dawned when the good old man was strickei

1799— i8oa] DAWNING PIETY. 467

down and laid in his grave. The blow fell heavily on his
son — more heavily for the thought that he had sometimes
failed in fiHal duty and respect. The terrible sense of the
Irremediable sorely troubled him> and in his trouble he sought
a present help which Newton could not extend to his pupil
— the One mighty hand and stretched-out arm which alone
could lift him out of the deep waters in which he was strug-
gling. * As at this time,' he recorded at a later period, ' I had
no taste for my usual studies, I took up my Bible, thinking
that the consideration of reUgion was rather suitable to this
solemn time.* To this he was exhorted by the good human
friend who had protected him in the Truro Grammar School
and guarded the first footsteps of his University career. . So
Uie beginning was made — a faltering, stumbling start in the
dark — for he did not take up the Scriptures without some
distaste, and he ^ began with the Acts, as being the most
amusing.* Little by little the light of truth streamed into
the obscure tenement of his soul, until he stood in the fiill
broad sunshine of a saving knowledge of the great scheme
of redemption. At first, he seems to have been disposed to
rejoice m the exceeding goodness of Grod in sending Christ
into the world 5 but this time of rejoicing soon passed away.
There came upon him an overwhelming sense of his own
unworthiness j and it may be doubted whether from that
time he ever had a day of perfect happiness and peace. His
good old fnend, who rejoiced as a Christian in the exceeding
goodness of Grod, and delighted to see others happy, endea-
voured to persuade him that his despondency was not right
It would seem also that his sister did the same. But Henry
Martjm was determined not only to enter in at the strait

468 THE REV, HENRY MARTYN. [z79^-z8oa

gate, but never to emerge into the broad outer-courts of cheer-
fulness, and serenity, and fear-expelling love.

Whilst this great change was taking place in his heart,
his brain was actively employed, mastering the exact sciences,
the study of which had now become an engrossing pursuit.
It appeared to be peculiarly his lot to illustrate by his own
personal experiences the extraordinary changes and transi-
tions to which by God's providence the human mind, both
in its moral and intellectual aspects, may be subjected.
That he who had begun the study of God's word by select-
ing for perusal the most amusing chapters of the Bible,
should in so short a time have developed into a ripe Chris-
tian, with convictions deeply rooted in the true faith, is not
more strange than that one who, under a mortifying sense
of his incapacity to understand them, had committed the
problems of Euclid to memory, should, at his final examin-
ation, have been declared the first mathematician of his year.
But so it was. The great annual contest over, Henry Mar-
tyn found himself Senior Wrangler.* He had gained the
highest object of academical ambition. But it afforded him
little gratification. It enhanced the bitterness of the regret
with which he dwelt, upon the great loss that he had sus-
tained 5 and it made him more than ever suspicious of him-
self—fearful of stumbling into the pitfaUs of human pride.
' I obtained my highest wishes,* he said, 'but was surprise^
to find that I had grasped a shadow.'

* Robert (afterwards Sir Robert) Grant, Governor of Bombay
was third Wrangler, and Charles Grant, afterwards Lord Glenelg,
was fourth. They were sons of that * old Charles Grant,* of whom
frequent mention is made in these volumes*

x8oi.] MARTYN AND SIMEON. ^(^

It was in the summer of this year, 1801, that Henry
Martyn, having returned to Cambridge during the vacation,
made the acquaintance, and soon the true heart's-friendship,
of one who was ordained to exercise a remarkable in-
fluence over all the future current t)f his life. Among the
fellows of King's College was one, whose inestimable privi-
lege it was, during a long course of years, not only to set
his mark upon the religious mind of the University, but to
make his presence felt in the remotest regions of cU^ earth.
It has been said by one, with the highest authority to be
heard upon such a subject,* * If the section of the Church
of England which usually bears that title ('* Evangelical*')
be properly so distinguished, there can be no impropriety in
designating as her four Evangelists, John Newton, Thomas
Scott, Joseph Milner, and Henry Venn.* But it may be
doubted whether the Evangelical influence of Charles
Simeon was not more widely diffused than that of any one
of these good men ; whether there was in his generation
one who did so much for the religion which he professed
and taught and illustrated by his great example. The
warmth and earnestness of Mr Simepn*s preaching had
made a great impression on Henry Martyn*s mindj and
when the time came, he rejoiced with an exceeding great
joy to be admitted to Mr Simeon's college rooms, and there
to enjoy the unspeakable benefits of his conversation and
advice.

Then there grew up between them a warmth of aifec-
tion never chilled to the last day of their lives. Mr Simeon
delighted in the ' wonderful gemus ' of his young friend, and

• Sir Tames Stephen.

470 THE RE V, HENR Y MAR TYN. [1800—1803.

took the tenderest interest in the growth of his religious con-
victions. To what grand ministerial purposes might not
his fine mind and the earnestness of his nature be turned
under good guidance ! Henry Martjm had determined to
devote himself to the ministry, and Mr Simeon was eager to
have him as a fellow-labourer with him in his own church.
Diligently, conscientiously, with a high sense of the re-
sponsibility of the holy office, and a profound conviction
of his own unworthiness, he prepared himself throughout
the year 1802 and the early part of 1803 for holy orders.
At this time he was a fellow of St John's, and he took
pupils ', but the employment did not much please him, and
it may be doubted whether, notwithstanding his eminent
abilities, he was well qualified for the work of tuition.
What his state of mind was at this time may be gathered
from his letters and journals which have been given to the
world : ' Feb. 2, 1803. — In a poor and lukewarm state this
morning. Resolved to send away two of my pupils, as I
found so much of my time taken up by them of late, instead
of being devoted to reading the Scriptures.* * Feb. 4. — But
talk upon what I will, or with whom I will, conversation
leaves me ruffled and discomposed. From what does this
arise ? From a want of the sense of Grod*s presence when
I am with others.* A few days later he records that he is,
' through mere habit, disposed to a cynic flippancy. Not
quite pleased with the respect and attention shown me by
my friends.* Then, some ten days afterwards, he says :
'Found myself sarcastic — ^though without any particular
sensation of pride and bitterness in my heart 3 * and a little
later : * Much harassed with evil tempers, levity, and dis-

i«02— 1803.] FELLOW OF ST JOHN'S. 4yt

traction of mind.' Throughout the greater part of March
he was * in general dejected.*

He would probably have been much worse at this time^
both in spirits and in temper, but for the good and kindly
influence of Mr Simeon, who, though not free from a cer-
tain coa<5titutional irritability, was a man by no means of a
morose or gloomy nature. He was wont to look rather on
the bright side of things, whilst Martyn looked ever at the
darkest. On the 2nd of April, the latter dined with Mr
Simeon. Mr Atkinson of Leeds was there. After this
record, we find in Martyn*s journal the significant words ;
'The tender pity of our Lord towards Jerusalem, even
when he mentioned so many causes of indignation, was
pressed to my mind strongly as an example.* It is curious
to observe how at this time a contempt for ipan and a fear
of man held possession of him at the same time. On the-
22nd of April, he records: 'Was ashamed to confess to

that I was to be Mr Simeon's curate — a despicable

fear of man, from which I vainly thought myself free.'
And again, on the 9th of May : ' On Saturday felt great
fear of man, and yet was determined to let slip no proper
occasion of speaking out.* Then he sets down that he was

' quite fatigued with being so long with ^,* A friend

wisely suggested that this might arise rather from feelings
than from principle 5 on which Martyn remarks, 'And
this witness is true, for though I could perceive them to be
in the gall of bitterness, I felt little of pity.* In the month
of June, we have these characteristic entries : ' Read Sir G.
Staimton*s '^ Embassy to China." I have still the spirit of
worldly men when I read worldly books. I felt more

47a THE REV, HENRY MARTY N, [1803.

curiosity about the manners of this people than love and
pity towards their souls.* ' Was seized with excessiye hilar-
ity in company with H. in the afternoon, which rendered
me unfit for serious conversation. This is frequently the
case, especially after severe study either of a temporal or
spiritual kind. It was merely animal, for I would gladly
exchange it for sympathy.* * D. has heard about a rehgious
young man of seventeen, who wants to come to College,
but has only £10 a year. He is very clever, and from the
perusal of some poems which he has published, I am much
interested about him. His name is H. K. White.' In
July and September there are these entries : * Felt the passion
of envy rankle in my bosom on a certain occasion.* Sept.
22. — 'Two men from Clare Hall breakfasted with me.
A fear of man, which prevented me from saying grace
before breakfast, brought me into inexpressible confiision of
conscience. Recovered a little by saying it after.' ' In a
gloomy temper, from being vainly concerned about the
appearance of my body.* * Hezekiah's sin was vanity.
How many times have I fallen into this sin ! *

It may be gathered from these passages, which might be
multiplied tenfold, that at that time Henry Martyn was in
no sense in a happy state of mind. Irritable, vain, cen-
sorious, exacting, intolerant, aggressive, he was so eager to
do his duty to Grod, that he often forgot his duty to his
neighbour. He forgot that without doing the last he could
not thoroughly do the first. ' For he who loveth not his
brother, whom he hath seen, how c^ he love Grod whom
he hath not seen ? ' If he is to be fairly judged by his
journals, he was much wanting in human love — ^in charity^

i8q3.] morbid tendencies. 473

in kindness^ and in courtesy. His indignation^ rather than
his compassion^ was stirred by what he regarded as the
depravity around him. In this respect he much differed
from his master. He had learnt much from the teachings of
Mr Simeon 5 it would have been well if had learnt as much
from his example. The grand old Fellow of King's was
not at all above little things, or scomfrd of little people.
He was one who believed that

' The dignity of life is not impaired
By aught that innocently satisfies
The humbler cravings of the heart ; and he
Is a still happier man who for the heights
Of speculation not unfit, descends,
And such benign affections cultivates
Among the inferior kinds.'

But Henry Martyn did not cultivate benign affections among
the inferior kinds, or if he did, his biographers have been
careful to veil this side of his humanity — ^ignorant, perhaps,
that its weakness may, rightly regarded, be its strength.

It must not, however, be forgotten that Henry Martyn
at no time possessed the mens sana in corpore sano. Much
that appears to be unlovely in his character must be
attributed to constitutional infirmity. Want of cheerful-
ness in him was want of health. Melancholy is oidy a
Greek rendering of black bile 5 and our English word
choler has the same bilious origin. I have a letter now
before me, to be quoted more fidly hereafter, in which
Martyn speaks of the dangerous ' prevalence of bile in his
constitution.* It was this that jaimdiced all the aspects of
human life, and at one time stirred up within him such

474 7-^^ REV. HENRY MARTYN. [i8p»

ungovemable fits of passion. But it was his gloiy to wrestle
manfiilly against these infirmities. The picture of the Con-
flict is before the world — and what a strange picture it is !
I do not know another instance of a man at once so self-
asserting and so self-denying. There was a sort of sacrificial
egotism in his nature, which had more of the sublime than
the beautiful about it. He was continually watching him-
self, as though he were eager to catch himself tripping 5 he
was continually in an attitude of offence against himself
even more than against others. Within were conflicts :
without were strifes. He trode down with a remorseless heel
all the flowers of this world, lest by cherishing them he
should unfit himself for the world to come. The reader
of his journals, believing that they fairly represent all the
varying moods of his mind, may lament that the sunshine
so seldom entered that godly shrine. He desired, above all
things, to be of the number of the elect. Yet he did not
take to his heart those good words : ' Put on, therefore, as
the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies,
kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long-suflTering 5
forbearing one another and forgiving one another, if any
man have a quarrel against any 5 even as Christ forgave
you, so also do ye: and above all these things, put on
Charity, which is the bond of perfectness 3 and let the peace
of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called
in one body 5 and be ye thankful.*

On the 23rd of October, 1803, Henry Martyn was
ordained a Deacon of the Church of England. It had been
arranged that he should assist Mr Simeon in the duties both
of the Church of the Holy Trinity and in the neighbouring

1803—1804.] THE MINISTRY. 475

parish of Lulworth j and he entered upon these duties with
a solemn sense of the responsibilities he had undertaken^ and
a steadfast determination to do his work in the true spirit
of the apostles, without a fear of the reproach or the ridicule
of man. "We must go back half a century or more in
imagination to appreciate the force of these last words. At
the present time, they have little special significance. But
in 1803, the University was but just beginning to tolerate
the evangelical earnestness of Mr Simeon. Only a few years
before he had been hooted and howled at, and his minis-
trations had been interrupted by outrages of the most
violent and indecent character. It demanded some courage
in a young man to stand forth as Mr Simeon's associate 3
and Martyn at one time had been assailed by doubts and
anxieties very distressing to his carnal nature. But he
fought them down manfully, and he soon began to take
a lively pleasure in his ministerial work. He had not, how-
ever, devoted himself long to the parochial duties of the
ministry, when thoughts of a far different career began
to take shape in his mind. He had some time before
dimly discerned in the distance a hand beckoning to him to
enter upon the glorious fields of missionary adventure. The
perusal of the Life of David Brainerd had excited within
him a desire to go forth and do likewise. This desire was
subsequently strengthened by a sermon, in which Mr Simeon
had earnestly discoursed upon the immensity of good that
might be done by a single labourer in the vineyard — ^the
illustration being derived from the career which the Baptist
apostle, Dr Carey, had commenced in Bengal. This story
fired the enthusiasm of Henry Marty n. Ever intent upon

476 THE REV, HENRY MARTYN, [1803—1804.

the thought of some heroic abnegation of sel^ he sprang up
open-armed to embrace this grand idea of a missionaiy
sacrifice. But at this time a misfortune befell him which
caused him to consider whether it were not his duty to
repress these inclinations and to remain in England. The
little property amassed by the industry and intelligence
of his father was lost to his family, and his sisters, therefore,
became dependent on his exertions. To become a mission-
aiy was to become a pauper, and to lose the means of assist-
ing others 5 so Henry Martyn began to think that it might
not be his duty to go forth to preach the gospel to the
heathen.

But from these doubts and anxieties there came deliver-
ance from an unexpected quarter. Among the. many good
men with whom Mr Simeon was in affectionate corre-
spondence were William Wilberforce and Charles Grant.
Both were members of the House of Commons ; and the
latter was a member also of the Court of Directors of the
£ast India Company. They were men of influence — ^but
of influence derived only in part from their position 3 for
they were men, also, of large intelligence, unwearying in-
dustry, and of an earnest, many-sided humanity that never
rested for a moment. There could be no pleasanter history
to write than that which should describe all the great
schemes by which they sought to benefit the human race^
and for the promotion of which, with Messrs Babington,
Stephen, Henry Thornton, and sometimes Lord Teignmouth
and Mr Venn, they held a little Parliament of their own,
always carrying out its enactments with remarkable prompti-
tude and vigour. To emancipate the enslaved of every kind

i8o4.] MISSIONAR Y ASPIRA TIONS. 477

and degree, whetlier from the material shackles of the slave-
dealer or from the bondage of ignorance and superstition^
was the main object of their endeavours. In the conversion
of the natives of India to Christianity, Mr Grant, from the
nature of his own personal experiences and associations, had
an especial interest. Those were times when there were
great impediments in the way of direct missionary action in
the Company's territories in India 3 but the Company re-
quired chaplains to minister to their servants 5 and it was
thought that if the English clergymen, who were sent out
from time to time in this capacity, were wisely chosen,
much good directly and indirectly might be done by them
for the promotion of Christ's kingdom upon earth. Upon
this subject, Mr Simeon and Mr Grant were continually in
correspondence 5 for whilst the latter had the power of pro-
viding chaplaincies, the former had the means of supplying,
from among the more promising young men of the Uni-
versity, the right persons to fill them. And among these
yoimg men who so fit as Henry Mart}Ti ? It was soon
settled, therefore, that the first Indian chaplaincy at the dis-
posal of Mr Grant should be bestowed upon Mr Simeon's
curate. So Henry Martyn went up to town 5 visited
Charles Grant at the India House; was invited by his
benefactor to Clapham 5 and taken by him to dine with
Mr Wilberforce. They saw at once that the true spirit of
the Apostle was animating the delicate frame of the young
minister, and they had great hope of the good to be done
by his ministrations.*

• This was on the 26th of January, 1804. Mr Martjm has thus
lecorded the meeting : * Walked to the India House to Mr Grants

478 THE REV. HENRY MARTYN. [1804.

In the long vacation of 1804, Martyn was again in in-
tercourse with those ' godly senators.* On the 9th of July
he called on Mr Grants who told him that 'he had no
doubt that there would be a chaplainship vacant before the
end of next spring season,' and on the following day he
made this characteristic entry in his journal : *' July 10,
1804. — ^Dined with Mr Wilberforce at Palace-yard. It
was very agreeable, as there was no one else. Speaking of
the slave-trade, I mentioned the words, * Shall I not visit
for these things ? ** and found my heart so affected that I
could with difficulty refrain from tears. Went with Mr
W. to the House of Commons, where I was surprised and
charmed with Mr Pitt*s eloquence. '' Ah," thought I, "if
these powers of oratory were now employed in recommend-
ing the Gospel ! — ^but as it is, he talks with great serious-
ness and energy about that which is of no consequence at

who desired I would come down to Clapham. So I went with Mr
Grant, and on the road he gave me much information on the state of
India. . . . We arrived at Mr Wilberforce's to dinner ; in the even-
ing we conversed about my business. To Mr Wilberforce I went
into a detail of my views and the reasons that had operated on mj
mind. The conversation of Mr Wilberforce and Mr Grant, during
the rest of the day, was edifying — ^what I should think right for two
godly senators planning some means of bringing before Parliament
propositions for bettering the moral state of the colony of Botany
Bay.' It was probably this visit that suppHed the original of Sir James
Stephen's picture of Charles Grant * traversing the gorse-covCred com-
mon attended by a youth, who, but for the fire of his eye and the
occasional energy of his bearing, might have passed for some studious
and sickly competitor for medals and prize poems.' I cannot find,
in Mart3m's journals, any other trace of his appearance at Clapham.
His visits to Mr Grant were generally paid at his residence in Bed-
ford-square.

i8o4.] LYDIA GRENFELL, 479

all." * It is not stated that Mart)ai ever expressed thia
opinion to Mr Wilberforce, but I can very well imagine
the answer that, in such a case, would have been given by
the man, of whom it has been said that ' the fusion in him
of religious and worldly thoughts enhanced the spirit with
which he performed every duty, and the zest with which
he welcomed every enjoyment.**

On the following day, Mr Martyn started on a long
coach-journey to Cornwall, where he purposed to take leave
of all his beloved friends in the west of £ngland. These
were not all members of his family. There was one whom
he loved with a deeper affection even than that which he
bestowed upon his sisters. Near St MichaeFs Mount,
under the roof of her widowed mother, lived Miss Lydia
Grenfell, a young lady whose charms were not wholly
confined to the personal piety for which she was so con-
spicuous. At what period Henry Martyn first imbibed the
delicious poison I do not know ; but it was tingling in all
his veins at the time when he paid this farewell visit to
Cornwall. What were the tenderness of his feelings and
the strength of his devotion towards one whom he hoped
might some day be the partner of his life, may be gathered
from these entries in his journal : * July 29 (Sunday). — At
St Hilary church, in the morning, my thoughts wandered
from the service, and I suffered the keenest disappointment.
Miss Lydia Grenfell did not come. Yet, in great pain, I
blessed God for having kept her away, as she might have
been a snare to me. These things would be almost in-
credible to another, and almost to mjrself, were I not taught

* Sir James Stephen's ' Essays in Ecclesiastical Biography.'

48o THE REV. HENRrMARTYN. [1804.

by daily experience that, whatever the world may say, or
I may think of myself, I am a poor, wretched, contemptible
worm. Called after tea on Miss Lydia Grenfell, and
walked with her, and * * conversing on spiritual subjects.
All the rest of the evening and night I could not keep her
out of my mind. I felt too plainly that I loved her pas-
sionately. The direct opposition of this to my devotedness
to Grod, in the missionary way, excited no small tumult in

my mind At night I continued an hour and a half

in prayer, striving against this attachment.' On the follow-
ing day he recorded that he rose in great peace, as God, by
secret influence, seemed to have caused the tempest of self-
will to subside 5 but at night he said, he found himself to
have backslidden a long way from the life of godliness, and
to have declined very much since his coming to Cornwall,
especially since he went to St Hilary. It does not appear
that he saw Miss Grenfell again imtil the end of the follow-
ing month, when he wrote in his journal (August 27) :
'Walked to Marazion, with my heart more delivered
from its idolatry, and enabled to look steadily and peace-
ftilly to God. Reading in the afternoon to Lydia alone
fix>m Dr Watts, there happened to be among other things
a prayer on entire preference of God to the creature. Now,
thought I, here am I in the presence of God and my idol.
So I used the prayer for mjrself and addressed to Grod, who
answered it, I think, for my love was kindled to God and
divine things, and I felt cheerftilly resigned to the will of
God to forego the earthly joy, which I had just been desir-
ing with my whole heart in heaven, but every now and
then resting on her. Parted with Lydia, perhaps for ever

i8o4.] THE INDIAN CHAPLAINCY. 481

in this life. Walked to St Hilary, determining in great
tumult and inward pain to be the servant of the Lord.*
But, wrestle as he might against himself, he could not tear
out that fair image from his heart. On the following day
he wrote in his journal : * Took leave of St Hilary 3 walked
on, dwelling at large on the excellence of Lydia. A fe^
faint struggles to forget her and delight in God, but they
were ineffectual.* And again, next day : * My mind taken
up with Lydia. But once reasoning in this way, if Grod
made me and wills my happiness, as I do not doubt,
then he is providing for my good by separating from
her.**

With the vital question yet unspoken Martyn returned
to Cambridge, his * thoughts almost wholly occupied with
Lydia, though not in spirit of departure from Grod.' At
the University he reverted to his duties, both as a minister
and a tutor, with little zest. He was expecting a summons
to London to take up the Indian chaplaincy, and he was
eager for any change. The ' dreary scene of college * ap-
peared to him ' a wilderness after the company of his dear
friends in Cornwall.* But month after month passed away,
and still the summons did not come. He was endeavour-
ing, all this time, to prepare himself for Indian work by
reading missionary publications and mastering the rudiments
of the Hindostanee and Bengalee languages. His tuition-
work was extremely distasteful to him 3 and with that
strange, morbid obliquity of vision which prevented him
ever from taking in the completeness of the Christian life at
a glance, he declared that the perusal of the classical

* Wilberforce's Letters and Journals of Henry Martyn.
VOL. I. 31

■ I

482 THE REV. HENRY MARTYN. [1895.

authors, ' in order to examine a pupil/ was a snare to him.
His impatience and quickness of temper with his pupils
were really errors to be grieved over y and they are probably
not exaggerated in his journal.

At the begimiing of the new year, Henry Martyn went
up to London and saw Mr Grant, who told him that he
was certainly destined for India, though he had not yet
been appointed to a chaplaincy. 'Thus it pleases GJod,*
he wrote, ' to keep mQ in a certain degree imfi^xed^ and it is
but that his awn wise purposes should be fulfilled in thdr
time. I find these apparent delays very beueficial to me, as
I perceive that God works in providence, as in nature, very
slowly, which is a check to human rashness.* On the 12th
of January he left London in very low spirits, ' partly from
illness and partly from the depression of his thoughts.' On
the I jth he wrote in his journal ; ' I sat an hour with Mr
Simeon, who. much reprobated the idea of my being settled
at or near Calcutta, as Mr Brown or Buchanan would want
me to take their places in the College, and I should be
more than half a secular man. He said he wished me to
be properly a missionary, one who should be quite dead to
this world and living for another/ This passage seems to
require some explanation. Mr Simeon was not only a very
pious man, and very conscientious in all the affairs of life,
but also, a very sensible one. He must have known that
his young friend and assistant was expecting to be sent to
India by the JE^ast India Company as a chaplain upon their
establishment, and I cannot help thinking that if he coun-
selled Henry Martyn to withdraw altogether fifom secular
engagenxeuts, and ta give hiw^eif uu wholly to missionary

i805] VISITS TO LONDON. 4%

work^ he must have counselled him at the same time to
give up the English chaplaincy.

In the first week of March, Henry Martyn visited Lon-
don again, but the chaplaincy was not yet ready for him.
Having completed his twenty-fourth year, he was ordained
priest at St James*s chapel. During this visit to the me-
tropolis he took some lessons in Hindostanee from Mr Gil-
christ, who gave him some very sensible advice, which he
has thus recorded in his journal: 'March 21. — On my
mentioning to Gilchrist my desire of translating some of
the Scriptures with him, he advised me by all meaas to de-
sist till I knew much more of the language by having re-
sided some years in the country* He said it was the rock
on which missionaries had split, that th^ had attempted to
write and preach before they knew the language. The
Lord's Prayer, he said, was now a common subject of ridi^
cule with the people on account of the manner in which
it had been translated. All these are useful hints to meJ
Early in the following month he returned to Cambridge, but
he was soon again in London, where, on the 24th of April,
he 'found from Mr Grant that he was on that day ap-
pointed a chaplain to the East India Company, but his
particular destination would depend on the Government of
India.' *

♦ It appears that there had been, at one time, some intentrori of
sending him out to Bengal, in attendance on Lord Comwallis. In
an unpublished letter before me, he writes to Mr Grant, saying : * In
a letter I received a few days ago; fi?om Major Sandys, he mentions
something about my going out witii Maiqois Comwsdlis ; but as he
gives no reason at all for expecting such a thing, I suppose it i& not
worth my thinking about a moment'

484 THE RE V. HENR Y MARTYN, [180J

In London he made the acquaintance of those eminent
Christians Mr Cecil and Mr Newton^ and he had sometimes
the privilege of occupying the pulpit of the former in the
well-known chapel in John-street, Bedford-row, the minis-
try of which at a later period was so long held by Mr Bap-
tist Noel.* During this residence in the metropolis, the
emotional parts of his nature appear to have been in a state
of continual activity. He was one day elevated, another
depressed. Any trifling circumstance caused him to burst
into sudden tears. He was moved by a divine compassion
for the souls of men, to go forth to preach the Gospel in a
heathen land 5 but there was something ever tugging at his
heart-strings, and imploring him to remain at home. ' Shed
tears to night,* he wrote in his journal, ' at the thought of
my departure. I thought of the roaring seas which would
soon be rolling between me and all that is dear to me oel
earth.* The conflict in his mind was rendered all the more
severe by the antagonistic opinions of his friends. On the
3rd of June he wrote in his journal : ' Mr Cecil said that I
should be acting like a madman if I went out unmarried.
A wife would supply by her comfort and counsel the entire
want of society, and also be a preservation both to character
and passions in such scenes. ... If this opinion of so many
pious clergymen had come across me when I was in Corn-
wall, and so strongly attached to my beloved Lydia, it would
have been a conflict indeed in my heart to oppose so many

♦ Cecil was by no means pleased with Martyn's style of preach-
ing, which he considered insipid and inanimate. * Sir,' said he^ * it
is cupola-painting, not miniature, that must be the aim of a man tba2
harangues a multitude.'

i8os.] QUESTION OF MARRIAGE. 485

arguments. I am not seeking an excuse for marriage . . .
but I feel my affections kindling to their wonted fond-
ness while I dwell on the circumstances of an union with
Lydia.' But only a few days afterwarcb another friend
offered to him a totally different opinion. ' Something feU
from Dr F.,' he recorded in his journal on the 7th of June,
' against my marriage, which struck me so forcibly, though
there was nothing* particular in it, that I began to see I
should finally give up all thoughts of it. But how great
the conflict ! I could not have believed it had such hold
on my affections. . • . Before this I had been writing in
tolerable tranquillity, and walked out in the enjoyment of
a resigned mind, even rejoicing for the most part in God,
and dined at Mr Cecil* s, where the arguments I heard were
all in favour of the flesh, and so I was pleased y but Dr F.*s
words gave a new turn to my thoughts, and the tumult
showed me the true state of my heart. How miserable did
life appear without the hope of Lydia ! Oh, how has the
discussion of the subject opened all my wounds afresh ! ' *

Three weeks after this he started for Portsmouth, there
to join the vessel, the Union, which was to convey him to
his new field of labour. It was a two days' journey for him j
and it is recorded that at the inn at which he spent the in-
termediate night, he had a fit of convulsions which greatly
alarmed the friends who accompanied him. He continued
his journey in a very depressed state, from which he was
somewhat roused by finding at Portsmouth Mr Simeon and
other friends, who had come to bid him farewell.t On the

• Journals and Letters, Wilberforce.

t Mr Sargent — ^hls biographer — ^was one of the party assembled

486 THE REV. HENRY MARTYN. [iSog.

i'j\h, the fleet sailed from Portsmouth. 'Though it was
what I had actually been looking forward to so long^* wrote
Henry Martyn to Mr Simeon^ 'yet the consideration of
being parted for ever from my friends almost overcame mej
my feelings were those of a man who should be suddenly
told that every friend he had in the world was dead. It
was only by prayers for them that I could be comforted j
and this was indeed a refreshment to my soul^ because by
meeting them at the Throne of Grace I seemed to be again
in their society.*

It happened that the fleet anchored off Falmouth. The
* singularity of the providence of God ' thus ' led him once
more into the bosom of his friends.* He thought he had
seen the last of all whom he most loved ; but now an un-
foreseen circumstance enabled him again to renew his inter-
course with the one whom he loved most of all. The
temptation thus presented to him was not to be resisted.
So he landed at Falmouth^ made his way to Marazion^ and
passed some days of mingled pleasure and pain in the dear
companionship of his beloved. His suit does not seem to
have prospered. She had a lingering affection for another
man, who appears to have deserted her; and the result of
her last meeting with Henry Martyn was, that they parted
without a betrothal. But he fully laid bare his heart, and
did not meet with such an absolute rejection as forbade
him to hope that some day the much-coveted possession
might be his. The answer which the young lady gave
rather evaded than met the question. It was settled that
Henry Martyn should go out to India unmarried — how,
at Portsmouth. He has given an interesting account of the parting.

i8o5.] FAREWELL TO ENGLAND, 487

indeed, could it be otherwise? — and that their union at
some indefinite period should be left to the Almighty Pro-
vidence to frustrate or to decree.*

♦ The entries in his journal run thus : * July 2Z. — After much
deliberation I determined to go to Marazion on the morrow. Went
to bed with much thought about the Step I was going to take, and
prayed that if it was not the will of God it might be prevented. I
arrived in time for breakfast, and met my beloved Lydia. In the
course of the morning T walked with her, though not uninterruptedly.
With much confusion I declared my affection for her, with the in-
tention of learning whether, if I ever saw it right in India to be mar-
ried, she would come out ; but she would not declare her sentiments.
She said that the shortness of the arrangement was an obstacle, even
if all others were removed.* * 29th. — ^The consequence of my
Marazion journey is that I am enveloped in gloom ; but past experi-
ence assures me it will be removed. .... Another consequence of
my journey is that I love Lydia more than ever.' * 31st. — Went on
board this morning in extreme ai^guish I could not help saying,
" Lord, it is not a sinful attachment in itself, and therefore I may
commune more freely with thee about it.** .... Left England as I
supposed for the last time.^ The fleet, however, was detained, and
Mart}^! went on shore again ; but he had not been long at Marazion
when tidings suddenly reached him that the ship was about to sail.
'August 10. — Apprehensions about the sailing of the fleet made me
dreadfully uneasy ; was with I^ydia a short time before breakfast ;
afterwards I read the lOth Psalm, with Home's Commentary, to her
and to her mother ; she was then just putting into my hand the lOth
of Genesis to read, when a servant came in and said a horse was
come for me from St Hilary, where a carriage was waiting to convey
me to Falmouth. .... Lydia was evidently painfully affected by it.
She came out, that we might be alone at taking leave, and I then told
her that if it should appear to be God's will that I should be married,
she must not be offended at receiving a letter from me. In the great
hurry, she discovered more of my mind than she intended ; she made
no objection whatever to coming out. Thinking, perhaps, I wished
to make an engagement with her, she said that we had better go

488 THE REV, HENRY MARTYN. . £1805.

In thus going on shore> Henrjr Martyn did- as other
young men would have done in like circumstances^ and
often with less excuse. Of course, there were the usual
results. He very nearly lost his passage, and he was in dread-
fully bad spirits when he returned to the ship. He soon,
however, began to rally, and to recover his serenity. Off
the Irish coast, he wrote to Mr Grant, saying : ' I cannot
leave Europe without assuring you that I bid adieu to it with
cheerfulness and joy. The prevalence of bile in my con-
stitution, which I feel particularly oppressive in this months
is the only thing that damps my expectations. According
to some persons in the ship, the climate in the course of a
few years will render me incapable of active exertion. My
anxiety does not arise from the fear of an early grave, for
many good ends might be answered by such an event, but
from a dread lest my present excessive languor should
become listlessness and indolence in India. With the appre-
hension of these things in my mind, I would humbly and
earnestly request your prayers for me, and beg that you
would occasionally send me such plain admonitions on the
subject, that I may be in no danger of being deceived by
the bad example of others, or the ^cied debility of my
own frame. My situation on board is as agreeable as it can
be in a ship. I see litde reason to prefer my college room
to my cabin, except that the former stands still. My sick-
ness, however, has upon the whole been of service to me.

quite free. With this I left her, not knowing yet for what purpose
I have been permitted, by an unexpected providence, to enjoy liiese
interviews.' — Journals and Letters. Edited by WUberforce, — Mr Sar-
gent's biography is altogetlier cloudy upon these points.

i8o5.] THE VOYAGE OUT, 489

.... The whole fleet is now under weigh. I therefore
bid you adieu. May God bless you, my dear sir, and all
your family. This is the sincere wish and earnest prayer
of one who honours and loves .you in the Lord.'

Another extract from this letter, which was finished on
the 31st of August, is equally illustrative of Martyn's
character, and of the difficulties with which he had to con-
tend : ' Since writing the above, a few days ago, the com-
modore has hauled down his blue Peter, and it is now said
that we are to be detained until something certain shall be
known about the invasion and the combined fleets. The
passengers are very dissatisfied, and the captains much more
so. It would be proper to make Captain Muter some com-
pensation, on my arrival in India, for the expense occasioned
to him by this delay. He continues the same man on
board as on shore. He is not, however, a truly religious
man. It would be very easy for him to have service more
than once on the Simday, if he had a love for the truth.
However, the want of more frequent opportunities of public
instruction is supplied by my having free access to the
soldiers and sailors. The regimental subalterns dislike my
talking to the soldiers and giving them books, and would
prevent it if they could 5 but the commanding officer begs
me to continue my labours among them. So I go on read-
ing and explaining the " Pilgrim's Progress " every day to
them on the orlop-deck. Those officers who oppose the
truth never speak to me on the subject, but reserve their
whole fire for Mackenzie, who, I rejoice to say, is alwa3rs
the advocate of serious piety, and is more than a match for
them all. I was lately on board the Anne, to see Mr

490 THE REV. HENRY MARTYN. [1805.

Thomas. He complained much of his situation^ and
expressed a determination of leaving the ship if possible.
The captain will never allow him to say grace at table, nor
even to have service on Sunday, if he can find the least
excuse. A few Sundays ago there was no service because
the ship was painting. From the tyrannical behaviour of
the officers and men, Mr Thomas had no doubt there would
be a mutiny, which has accordingly happened. The
mutineers, whose plan it was to murder the officers, were
on their trial when I was aboard the last time. The boats
to and fi-om the shore do not pass near the William Pitt, as
she lies near the mouth of the harbour 5 and on that
accoimt, I am sorry to say, I have not seen Cecil, though I
watch for an opportunity every day. There is a Botany
Bay ship lying close to us, which I have visited. There are
one hundred and twenty women, and one clergyman, a
convict whom I could not see. My indignation was roused
at what I saw upon deck between the sailors and the
women, and I warned them of the consequence of their
wickedness. The men defended their conduct very coolly,
and firom what they said I conclude that every man in the
ship has his mistress. The captain is, I find, a man of bad
character. He has promised, however, to dispense some
Testaments among them.* *

The voyage to India tried the courage of Henry Marty n.
He was on board a troop-ship j and the troop-ship was
what troop-ships commonly were sixty years ago. To
preach Christ crucified to such a congregation was to bring
down much hatred and contempt upon himself — to endure

• Unpublished ooirespondence.

i8os.] THE VOYAGE OUT. 491

hardness of every kind. He found it up-hill work j but he
toiled upwards manfidly, never turning or looking back.
There could scarcely have been a better apprenticeship to
the business of that most unpopular evangelical ministry
to which he was speeding across the ocean \ and^ though
probably at no period of his life were his sufferings^ bodily
and mental^ greater than at this time,^ there was a little
solace for him in the thought that he was not labouring
wholly in vain. He spoke to all classes o^ his fellow-
paseengers, freely and earnestly, about the state of their
souls and the great scheme of man's redemption. To the
officers of the ship and to the officers of the regiment, to
the young cadets, to the soldiers and the sailors, he addressed
himself as they sat or walked on the deck. The seed often
fell on hard, stony ground, but sometimes it was permitted
to him to hope that it was striking root and fructifying in
good soil. The voyage was not a common-place one.
Sickness of a bad type broke out on board. The captain
died. As they neared the Cape of Good Hope, it became
known that the troops would be landed for active service.
The Cape was to be wrested from the Dutch. The Fifty-

* He suffered greatly from sea-sickness, which was probably
rendered more than ordinarily painful and exhausting by frequent
fasts. His board-ship journals contain such entries as the following :
' The flesh seemed very imwilling to submit to such self-denial, espe-
cially as the bodily frame, from weakness, seems scarcely able to
support it ; however, I can but try. In my walk on deck my flesh
seemed again to shrink very much from &sting and prayer.' ' Had
some thoughts of devoting this day to prayer and fasting, but was un-
decided as to the latter, whether it would be right, in the present
weak state of my body, to omit the meal of dinner.'

493 THE REV. HENRY MARTY N. [1805—1806.

ninth had scarcely landed before a battle was foiight.
Martyn was then on boards endeavouring to comfort the
ladies. He has himself related how ' a most tremendous fire
of artillery began behind a mountain abreast of the ships.
It seemed as if the mountain itself was torn by intestine
convulsions. The smoke arose from a lesser eminence on
the right of the hill, and, on the top of it, troops were seen
marching down the fiirther declivity. Then came such a
long-drawn fire of musketry, that I could not conceive
anything Hke it. We all shuddered at considering what a
multitude of souls must be passing into eternity. The poor
ladies were in a dreadfiil condition j every peal seemed to
go through their hearts. I have just been endeavouring to
do what I could to keep up their spirits. The sound is
now retiring, and the enemy are seen retreating along the
low ground on the right towards the town.* * A few hours
afterwards he went on shore, to see what could be done
among the wounded and the djdng. ' We found several,'
he wrote in a letter to Mr Simeon, ^ but sHghtly hurt j and
these we left for a while, after seeing their wounds dressed
by a surgeon. A Httle onward were three mortally wounded.
One of them, on being asked where he was struck, opened
his shirt and showed a wound in his left breast. The
blood which he was spitting showed that he had been

* This was on the 8th of January, 1806, when the Cape fell to
Baird and Fopham. A detailed account of this important event will
be found in Theodore Hook's * Life of Sir David Baird.* In Mr
Sargent's Memoirs, the very interesting letter describing Martyn's
visit to the field of battle is dated TabU Bay^ January 7 ; but this
would seem to be a clerical or t3rpographical error for January 9.

i8o6.] CAPTURE OF THE CAPE. 493

shot through the lungs. As I spread my great-coat over
him, by the surgeon's desire I spoke of the blessed Grospel,
and besought him to look to Jesus Christ for salvation.

Among several others, some wounded and some

dead, was Captain S., who had been shot by a rifleman.
We all stopped for a while to gaze in pensive silence on his
pale body, and then passed on to witness more proofs of the
sin and misery of fallen man.* Leaving the battle-field,
he went with the surgeon to some Duch farm-houses in
the neighbourhood, which had been converted into tem-
porary hospitals, and where, he said, the wounded
presented a more ghastly spectacle than he could have
conceived. 'They were ranged without and within the
houses in rows, covered with gore. Indeed, it was the
blood, which they had not had time to wash off, that
made their appearance more dreadful than the reality, for
few of their wounds were mortal.' After this, he again
visited, with the surgeon, the field of battle, and saw many
of the wounded enemy. Here, the surgeon having left
him, he was mistaken by a Highland soldier for a French-
man, and narrowly escaped being shot. 'As I saw that
he was rather intoxicated,' wrote Martyn, 'and did not
know but that he might actually fire out of mere wanton-
ness, I sprang up towards him and told him, that if he
doubted my word he might take me as a prisoner to the
English camp, but that I certainly was an English clergy-
man. This pacified him, and he behaved with great
respect.' When evening began to close in, the young
minister returned to the shore, intending to regain his
ship, but found that she had left her moorings and was

494 THB REV, HENRY MARTYN, [1806.

under weigh. 'The sea raa high^' he said, 'our men
were ahnost spent, and I was faint with hunger, but, after
a long struggle, we reached the Indiaman about midnight/

Soon after this, the Dutch having capitulated, and
peace being restored, Martyn went on shore and took lodg-
ings in Cape Town. Like most other £nglish visitors, he
ascended Table Mountain 5 and he ' thought of the Chris*
tian hfe, what up-hill work it is.* As he was resting on his
wa/ down, he began to reflect with death-like despondency
on his friendless condition. ' Not that I wanted,* he said,
'an/ of the comforts of life, but I wanted those kind
friends, who loved me, and in whose company I used to
find such delight after my fatigues.* He made frequent
visits to the hospitals at this time, and generally preached
on Sundays. In the second week of February, he rejoined
the vessel, which then continued its voyage to India. On
the 19th of April, they sighted Ceylon; and on the follow-
ing Sunday Martyn preached his farewell sermon on board.
Many of his hearers ridiculed and reviled him. ' It pained
me,' he said, ' that they should give a ridiculous turn to
anything on so affecting an occasion as that of parting for
ever in this life. But such is the unthankful office of a
minister. Yet I desire to take the ridicule of men with
all meekness and charity, looking forward to another world
for approbation and reward.* But India was now in sight,
and the long and painful voyage was nearly at an end.

And here something may be said about the state of the
Company's ecclesiastical establishment in India at the time
when the Reverend Henry Martyn, military chaplain, en-
tered the Bay of Bengal. There were then but few English

i8o6.] THE ENGLISH CHURCH IN INDIA. 495

clergymen and fewer churches in India. The Protestant
faith had done little to assert itself in the East. Not that
the Company had been unmindful, even from the first,
of their obligaticMis to provide some sort of religious minis-
trations for their servants, or that the King's Grovemment
had failed to make suck provision compulsory upon them.
The Directors had generally sent out chaplains on board
their ships, and an Act of Parliament had been passed
decreeing that the Company should ^ in every garrison and
superior factory* constantly maintain one minister, and
should 'provide or set apart a decent and convenient place
for divine service only,' and that ' all such ministers as shall
be sent to reside in India, shall be obliged to learn, within
one year after their arrival, the Portuguese language, and
shall apply themselves to learn the native language of the
country where they shall reside, the better to enable them
to instruct the Grentoos that shalT be the servants or slaves
of the said Company or of their agents, in the Protestant
religion.* But after a while a succession of various obstruct-
ive circumstances, such as the rivalry of the two Com-
panies and occasional contentions with the native powers,
as well as the conviction that it was not the easiest thing
in the world for English clergymen, fresh from home, to
instruct the Gentoos in the Protestant religion, caused this
Act of Parliament to become little more than a dead letter.
The chaplains who went out ta India did not remain there
very long, or perhaps they found that there was more pro-
fitable employment to be had than that of reading prayers
to their countrymen and converting the Gentoos. Much
depended at that time upon the personal characters of the

496 THE RE V, HENR Y MAR TYN. [x8o6.

chief people of the settlements. At one time ive read of
the President^ the Council^ and the inferior servants of the
Company walking to church in orderly procession^ and at
others of there being an almost total absence of religious
observances at all our settlements. It will be presumed
that the gener^ thrifty sjrstem of the Company with
respect to the pay of their servants was not departed from
m the case of their chaplains. In the early part of the
seventeenth century the pay of a chaplain was ^loo a
year.

It was long a standing complaint against the Company^
that although they could find money to build forts, they
could not find money to build churches. But the charge
was scarcely a just one 5 for they had not any greater
predilection for forts than for churches, and the former
were generally constructed without their consent. When
at last India witnessed the spectacle of an Anglican church,
it was to private not to public beneficence that she was
indebted for the gift. Towards the end of the seventeenth
century, Sir George Oxenden had striven hard at Bombay
to compass the erection of a church 5 but he died before
the object was accomplished, and it is stated that one of
his successors in the Presidential chair thought the money
would be better employed if he applied it to his own uses.
So it happened that the first Protestant church was erected,
in the year 1681, not at Bombay but at Madras, whither
a Company's servant named Streynsham Master, who had
served under Oxenden in the former settlement, was sent
as chief of the factory. In 1715, a church was built by
subscription in Calcutta. In 1737^ the steeple was de-

i8o6.] THE ENGLISH CHURCH IN INDIA. 497

Btroyed in a great hurricane, and in 1756 the entire build-
ing was demolished by Surajah Dowlah. The settlers in
Bengal were then without a church, until a member of
the Danish mission, named Kiemander, whom Lord Clive
invited to Calcutta, built what was long afterwards known
as the Mission Church. He had married a rich widow,
and devoted a portion of the wealth thus acquired to
Protestant Christianity. His prosperity, however, was
short-lived. He fell into trouble. The church, being
private property, was seized for debt, when Charles Grant
stepped forward and bought it. In the mean while, how-
ever, the first stone of another church had been laid in
1784, when Warren Hastings was Grovernor-General. It
was completed in 1787, and is said to have been 'con-
secrated.* This building, which was known as the new
church, and afterwards, in early episcopal days, as St John's
Cathedral, was the property of Government, whilst the
old church remained in the hands of trustees. There was
not much church-going in the time of Warren Hastings.
During the administration of Lord Comwallis and Sir John
Shore there had been some improvement in this respect, and
Lord Wellesley ever recog^zed the importance of an out-
ward observance of respect for the religion of his country.
It was in his eyes a matter of policy, as an antidote to the
poison of the French Revolution. Mr Buchanan, at the
beginning of the century, wrote that ' it became fashionable
to say that religion was a very proper thing, that no civil-
ized state could subsist without it, and it was reckoned
much the same thing to praise the French as to praise
infidelity.* ' The awful history of the French Revolution/
VOL. I. 32

498 THE REV, HENRY MARTYN. [1806.

wrote the Reverend David Brown, from Calcutta^ in 1805,
'prepared the minds of our countrymen to support the
principles of religion and loyalty which our late Gtovernor-
General (Lord Wellesley) considered it his most sacred
duty to uphold 3 he resolved, to use his own words, to
make it be seen that the Christian religion was the religion
of the State, and, therefore, at different times, he appeared
in his place as chief representative of the British nation,
attended to church by all the officers of Government, to
give the Christian religion the most marked respect of the
Governor of the country.* But it was not all statecraft in
Lord Wellesley. Mr Brown believed that he promoted
and encouraged religion on its own account. *We lose
in Marquis Wellesley,' he wrote ia a letter to Mr Grant,
now before me, '■ the friend of religion and the bulwark of
the public morals. I have turned over with him the Holy
ScriptufCft, ^nd I shall ever believe that

f the tear

Which dropped upon his Bible was sincere.*

He has countenanced and encouraged faithful preaching,
treated with kindness and favour those devoted men, Carey
and his brethren, and has doi^e much in every way for the
truth, and nothing against it. Having been Lord Welles-
ley's almoner for seven years past, I can speak of his diftiis-
ive benevolence. .... I have just presented himi with
Bishop, Hoime &n the- Psalms, to be his companion on the
voyage, believing it to be a work in all respects exactly
suited to his Lordship^s religious views, genius, and taste.* *

* Manuscript conespoikdeBce.

i8o6.1 EARLY ENGLISH CHAPLAINS, 499

No man had done more to uphold the character of the
English Church in India than the writer of this letter j and,
in truth, it needed such support^ for it had been little hon-
oured in the persons of its representatives in the Eastern
world. The chaplains who had been sent out in the latter
part of the eighteenth century were, with a few exceptions,
men who, if they did not disgrace their religion by their
immorality, degraded it by the worldliness of their lives.
The prevailing taint of cupidity was upon them as upon
their brother settlers, and they grew rich like the rest. It
is not imcharitable to surmise that men who, after a few
years of ecclesiastical service in India, carried home with
them considerable fortunes, did not derive their wealth
from the legitimate gains of the ministry. It has been
stated, on credible authority, that one chaplain, Mr
Blanshard, after a service of little more than twenty years,
carried home a fortime of ^50,0003 that another, Mr
Johnson, after thirteen years' service, took with him from
Calcutta ^35,000 J and that a third, Mr Owen, at the end
of ten years, had amassed ^25,000, At a later period, they
were less successful in money-making, but scarcely mor«
profitable as members of the Church and ministers of the
Gospel. ' Our clei^gy, with some exceptions,* wrote Sir
John Shore in 1795, 'are not very respectable charaeters.
Their situation, indeed, is arduous, considering the general
relaxation of morals, and from which a black coat is no
security.' At a later period — ^not long before the epoch at
which I have arrived in the career of Henry Martyn — Mr
Brown concluded a letter to a correspondent in England
with the words, ' I might finish with giving you some ac-

500 THE RE V. HENR Y MAR TYN. [z8o6»

count of our wicked chaplains. Out of nine (the fidl com-
plement)^ four are grossly immoral characters^ and two
more have neither religion nor learning.* * Betrw^een these
men and the two devoted ministers^ who maintained alike
by their lives and their doctrines the sanctity of the Eng-
lish Church, there was an indecorous feud^ patent to the
whole settlement. ' The doctrine of the Cross,' wrote Mr
Brown, in August, 1805, ^has of late years given ofience to
many who formerly sat under the same ministry. Mr
Limrick tried for a long time to side with evangelical prin-
ciples, but by conforming to the world he lost his good
impressions, and, encouraged by the virulent declamations
delivered from the pulpit by Dr Stacy and Mr Shepherd,
came forward at last to oppose publicly the doctrines of
Grace. This induced Mr Buchanan to preach a set of dis-
courses on the Doctrinal Articles of the Church of Eng-
land, which was attended with good effect. 't But all this
increased the bitterness of the majority, and, so w^orsted
in their argumentative strife, they endeavoured to get rid at
least of one of their opponents by denjdng his clerical au-
thority, and threatening to prosecute him for the perform-
ance of ecclesiastical duties to which he had not been
ordained. Mr Brown was only a deacon of the English
Church, and his enemies affected to believe that he had not
received episcopal ordination at aU. One of their number,
therefore, wrote to him demanding a sight of his * letters of
orders,* and another told him that ^ a process of law was
about to be commenced against him, which, in the first in-
stance, would subject him to legal penalties, and ultimately
♦ Manuscript correspondence. t Ibid.

x8o6.] COMMENCEMENT OF HIS INDIAN CAREER, 501

to degradation^ and concluded by assuring him that if he
would but immediately resign^ he was authorized to say
that the business would be dropped.' Mr Brown laid the
matter at once before Lord Wellesley, who sent, through
his private secretary, a kind and encouraging letter to the
faithful minister, and commended his determination to treat
such threats with contemptuous silence.

Such was the state of the Company's ecclesiastical
establishment in Bengal when Henry Martyn arrived at
Calcutta. LordWellesley had left India 5 Lord Cornwallis
was dead j Lord Lauderdale was expected 5 and Sir Greorge
Barlow, a Company's civilian of high character, was in-
vested with the powers of the Governor-Greneral. The
mutations of the temporal Government were not a matter
of much concern to Mr Martyn, any ftirther than that one
ruler might be better disposed than another to give a per-
missive sanction to missionary efforts, and to afford an ex-
ample in his own person of piety and godly living and
respect for the ordinances of religion. As for himself, he
had gone out to India to be a chaplain on the Company's
establishment, for the performance of the duties of which
ofEce he was to receive a thousand a year. He had nothing
of the missionary about him except the true missionary
spirit. He was not his own master ; he could not choose
the place of his ministrations ; he was imder the orders of
the Commander-in-Chief; and was answerable for all his
acts to the temporal authorities, as much as if he had been
t lieutenant or an assistant-surgeon. There was much^

S02 THE REV. HENRY MARTYN. ff8o6.

doubtless, in this irksome to a man of his eager and enthu-
siastic nature. The chains must have pressed heavily upon
one who had set David Brainerd before him as his great
exemplar, and who had longed to go forth and do likewise.
But the position had its compensations too; and chief
among them was this : that there had been no greater ob-
stacle to the diffusion of Christianity among the heathens
than the imgodly lives which were commonly led by pro-
fessing Christians. It was no small thing, then, to be
allowed to convert his own countrymen. He had gone
out to preach, not to the black man, but to the white \ and
he saw plainly that if he could but touch the hearts and
reform the lives of the English settlers, he would make a
grand first step towards the propagation of the Gospel in
the East. On* board the Union he had had some practice
in this good workj he knew how painful it was, but he
was prepared to endure hardness, and he would not shrink
from an encounter with scoffers, let them scoff ever so
bitterly at him. It is nothing now to preach evangelical
truth from a Calcutta pulpit j but the reader who is ac-
quainted with the state of Anglo-Indian society sixty years
ago, knows that at that time it demanded no mean courage
to teach as Simeon taught at Cambridge, or Cecil in" Bed-
ford-row.*

• It should be observed, however, that Mr Simeon lived to fed
that he had erred in giving way overmuch to the vehement, denunci-
atory style in his earlier pulpit addresses. His correspondence abounds
with indications of this. Take the following : ' I am arrived at a
time of my life when my views of early habits, particularly in relation
to the ministry, are greatly changed. . I see many things in a differ-
ent light from what I once did, such as the beauty of order, of rcga-

i8o6.] HIS RESIDENCE NEAR CALCUTTA. 503

But he had some support from his fellow-labourers of
the English Church, though not much. As the Union was
beating up the Hooghly river to Calcutta, another vessel
was beating down the river seawards, and that vessel car-
ried Claudius Buchanan to the southern coast. This was a
great loss to him 5 but the venerable David Brown remained
to welcome the young priest 5 to be a father and a friend
to him ; to provide him with a home, and to sustain him
in all his trials. Mr Brown resided some fifteen miles from
Calcutta, at a place on the opposite bank of the river,
named Aldeen, not far from the settlement of Serampore,
where the Baptist missionaries Carey, Marshman, and
Ward lived and laboured. In the grounds attached to this
Aldeen house was a deserted idol-temple, upon the margin
of the river, the picturesque aspect of which, as it stands
out a broad mass of purple shadow against the setting sun,
has been noted by thousands of Englishmen passing to and
from the great military station of Barrackpore, ignorant of
the historical associations which surroimded it. This pagoda
had been fitted up as a dwelling-place — one of those con-
venient guest-houses which, in the old days of Indian hos-

larity, and the wisdom of seeking to win souls by kindness rather
than to convert them by harshness, and what I once called " fidelity." '
Agam : * It is not by coarseness of expression, or severity of man-
ner, that we are to win souls,, but by speaking the truth in love.'
And again, a third time : * What is your object — is it to win souls ?
If it be, how are you to set about it ? By exciting all manner of pre-
judices and driving people from the church? How did our Lord
act ? He spake the word in payables, ** as many were able to hear
it" How did St Paul act ? He fed the babes with milk, and not
with strong meat.'

504 THE REV, HENRY MARTYN, \iBgA,

pitality, English residents delighted to have in their gardens
for the reception of their friends. This building ^xras now
assigned to Henry Martyn, who took up his abode there^
with an imagination inflamed by the traditions of the place.
He ' felt something like superstitious dread at being in a
place once inhabited as it were by devils ; but yet felt dis-
posed to be triumphantly joyful that the temple where they
were worshipped was become Christ's oratory.* .

What his ministerial duties were at this time^ and what
the hostility to which they exposed him^ may be gathered
from the following extract firom an unpublished letter to
his friend and benefactor Mr Grants which gives a lively
picture of the state of society, in its religious or irreligious
aspects, at the commencement of the present century.
' The ministerial work assigned me here^' he wrote in Sep-
tember, 1806, *is to preach every Sabbath evening at the
Mission Church, and every third Sunday at the other.
With the former 1 am delighted j the congregation is nu-
merous and attentive, and, as I have heard, there are en-
couraging appearances of a work of grace among them.
At the New Church I am as a wonder unto many.
Whether it is they judge of me relatively with the other
clergymen who cannot boast of much physical strength, or
whether I have really recovered from that insipidity so
much complained of at St John's chapel, by having exer-
cised my lungs so many months on the quarter-deck, I am
called the son of thunder in this place. The Simday after
my first sermon at the New Church, Dr Ward preached .
vehemently on the opposite side. I was not present at the
time, being laid up with a bilious fever, but heard that it

ieo6.] THE CALCUTTA MINISTRY, 505

was against evangelical persons and things in general. After
describing the rise and progress of the sect of evangelical
clergymen in the Church, he proceeded to deny one by
one all the leading doctrines of the Gospel. The personal
abuse of me which his sermon contained gave such offence
that he found it necessary to let it be read, since which
many have thought better of it. After the second which I
preached. Limerick attacked me. He, too, was very per-
sonal, and gravely and distinctly denied all the doctrines of
the Grospel. As I knew how much carnal people would
enjoy a controversy between their teachers, and so elude
the force of what was intended for their consciences, I de-
clined making the smallest allusion to what had been said.
Notwithstanding this, many stay away from church, because
they say parties are running so high among the clergymen.
Jeiferies unites himself with us, and has preached the pure
truth J Stacey will not enter the Church till it is purified
from our errors. We anxiously await the arrival of Corrie
and Parson, whom we expect in the next fleet. When I
can see Mr Brown supplied with coadjutors in Mr Buchan-
an's absence, I shall proceed to my proper work with double
pleasure. I rejoice in the dispensation of God in sending me
to this country more than ever. Through His mercy I
enjoy excellent health, and I feel little doubt of seeing some
of these poor people turning to God from idols, which hope
is the health of my soul.'

Such was the outer life of Henry Martyn at this time.
His inner life is revealed to us with equal distinctness.
There was ever going on within him a conflict in which
warm human love was contending on one side and a morbid

So6 THE RE K HENR Y MARTYN, [ 1806.

spiritualism on the other. He could never altogether rid
himself of the thought that the love of the creature must
be antagonistic to the love of the Creator. Mr Cecil had
told him that it was clearly his duty to marry. Mr Simeon
and other friends had been of the same opinion ; and just
before he sailed finally for India, he had, it has been seen,
encouraged by the sight of the beloved object, given way
to the natural inclinations of his heart. But on his voyage
he seems to have cast out all hope, and indeed all desire,
and to have reconciled himself to the thought of a solitary
life. On his arrival in India, he ^ saw no reasons at first
for supposing that marriage was desirable for a missionary j*
but after a while his ' opinions began to change,' and his
hopes began to revive, and he sat down to write a letter to
Miss Grenfell, inviting her to join him in India. No sur-
prise can be felt by any one who reads this letter, that it
utterly failed to accomplish the desired object. ' From the
account,* he wrote, ^ which Mr Simeon received of you
from Mr Thomason, he seemed in his letter to regret that
he had so strongly dissuaded me from thinking about you
at the time of my leaving England. Colonel Sandys spoke
in such terms of you, and of the advantages to result from
your presence in this country, that Mr B[rown] became
very earnest for me to endeavour to prevail upon you.
Your letter to me perfectly delighted him, and induced
him to say that you would be the greatest aid to the Mis-.
sion I could possibly meet with. I knew my own heart
too well not to be distrustfiil of it, especially as my aflfec-
tions were again awakened, and accordingly all my labours
and prayers have been directed to check their infiuenoe^

iJk)6.] LOVE AFFAIRS, 507

that I might see clearly the path of duty. Though I dare
not say that I am under no bias, yet from every view of
the subject I have been able to take, after balancing the
advantages and disadvantages that may ensue to the cause
in which I am engaged, always in prayer for God's direc-
tion, my reason is fully convinced of the expediency, I had
almost said the necessity, of having you with me. It is
possible that my reason may still be obscured by passion j
let it suffice, however, to say that now with a safe con-
science and the enjoyment of the Divine presence I calmly
and deliberately make the proposal to you.' Perhaps a
little less calmness and deliberation, a little less reason and
a little more love, a little less talk about the advice of his
friends and a little more about his own longing desires,
might have been more successful in the pleading of his
cause. Even the best of women do not like to be reasoned
over and weighed in the scales after this fashion.

The letter to Miss Grenfell, which I have quoted above,
was written on the 30th of July, 1806. At what date it
reached Cornwall is not quite clear 5 but Miss Grenfell
replied to it on the jth of March, and it would seem that
in April the subject of it was still under discussion at Mara-
zion, where Mr Simeon visited the Grenfells, and took an
opportunity to talk over ^Mr Martyn's aflfair ' with the
young lady. He found her not much, and her mother not
at all, disposed to favour the proposal for her departure to
India. All the young lady's arguments might have been
summed up in the one cardinal objection, that she did not
Jove Martyn well enough. Formally, a sort of promise was
given that, if the mother withdrew her objections, the

So8 THE BE V, HENR Y MAR TYN, [1806.

daughter would go out to India $ but Miss Grenfell made
this conditional promise to Mr Simeon, knowing that the
conditions would never be fulfilled.* The letter which
she wrote to Mr Martyn was an unqualified refusal.

It cut him to the heart. He had been endeavouring
to persuade himself that it would be better for him to remain

* Mr Simeon's own account of the affair runs thus : * With her
mother's leave Miss Grenfell accompanied us to Colonel Sand3^',
when I had much conversation with her about Mr Martjm's zSahx.
She stated to me all the obstacles to his proposals : first, her health ;
second, the indelicacy of her going out alone to India on such an
errand ; third, her former engagement with another person, which
had, indeed, been broken off, and he had actually gone up to London
two years ago to be married to another woman, but as he was still
unmarried, it seemed an obstacle in her mind ; fourth, the certainty
that her mother would never consent to it. On these points, I ob-
served that I thought that the last was the only one that was insur-
mountable ; for that, first, India often agreed best with persons of a
delicate constitution, e, g. Mr Martyn himself and Mr Brown.
Second, it is common for ladies to go out thither without any previous
connection ; how much more, therefore, might one go out with a
connection already formed. Were this the only difficulty, I engaged,
with the help of Mr Grant and Mr Parry, that she should go under
such protection as should obviate all difficulties on this head. Third,
the step taken by the other person had set her at perfect liberty.
Fourth, the consent of her mother was indispensable ; and that as
that appeared impossible, the matter might be committed to God, in
this way : if her mother, of her own accord, should express r^[ret
that the connection had been prevented firom an idea of her being
irreconcilably averse to it, and that she would not stand in the way of
her daughter's wishes, this should be considered a direction firom God
in answer to her prayers, and I should instantly be apprized of it by
her, in order to communicate it to Mr Martyn. In this she perfectly
agreed. I told her, however, that I would mention nothing of this
to Mr Martyn, because it "would only tend to keep him in painfiil
suspense.'

i8o6.] CORRESPONDENCE WITH MISS GRENFELL, 509

single — ^that living in a state of continual self-denial and
mortification^ he would be better able to fulfil his duty to
his God. But the passions of humanity were not to be
preached down in this way 3 and when the day of trial
came, he was as little able to withstand the shock as any
worldling of six-and-twenty. On the 24th of October the
letter arrived — ' An unhappy day,' he wrote in his journal.
' Received at last a letter from Lydia, in which she refiises
to come, because her mother will not consent to it. Grief
and disappointment threw my soul into confusion at first ;
but gradually, as my disorder subsided, my eyes were opened,
and reason resumed its office. I could not but agree with
her that it would not be for the glory of God, nor could we
expect His blessing, if she acted in disobedience to her
mother. As she has said, " They that walk in crooked paths
shall not find peace 5** and if she were to come with an un-
easy conscience, what happiness could either of us expect V
On the same day he sat down and wrote to her a long letter,
only a portion of which can be given here : ' Alas ! my re-
bellious heart,' he wrote, after saying that he did not still
surrender all hope, ' what a tempest agitates me ! I knew
not that I had made so little progress in a spirit of resignation
to the Divine will. I am in my chastisement like the
bullock unaccustomed to the yoke, like a wild bull in the
net, full of the fury of the Lord, the rebuke of my God. The
death of my late most beloved sister almost broke my
hearty but I hoped it had softened me, and made me
willing to suffer. But now my heart is as tliough destitute
of the grace of God, full of misanthropic disgust with the
world, sometimes feeling resentment against yourself and

510 THE REV. HENRY MARTYN, fiSbe.

Emma, and Mr Simeon — and, in short, all whom I love
and honour most — sometimes in pride and anger resolving,
to write neither to you nor to any one else again. These
are the motions of sin. My love and my better reason
draw me to you again.*

This letter was written from Dinapore, where Martyn
was then stationed.* He was very busy with the translation
of the Scriptures, and in the season of his disappointment
he fell back upon his work as a stimulant and a solace. All
things, he knew, were working together for good, and this
affliction might yet be a blessing to himself and others.
In making the word of God acceptable to heathen and
Mahomedan races, surely he was doing grand missionary
work, though he might sit all day in his bimgalow with
his books and papers before him. The entries which he
made in his journal, and the letters which he wrote to his
friends in the following years (1807 to 1809), show how
he was employed. He was continually toiling 3 continually
stumbling 3 now hoping that he had really done somethings
now finding, to his bitter disappointment, that his translations
were inaccurate, and that he must spend more time in
correcting them than it would take to commence the work
de nofvo again. As he became better acquainted with the
languages, he began to make a small commencement of
preaching to the natives ;t and he taught in some schools,

• Mr Martyn was appointed military chaplain at Dinapore on the
I4fh of September, 1806. He left Aldeen on the 15th of October,
and reached Dinapore on the 26th of November.

+ Henry Martyn records in his journal the progress which he
made in the languages under his native teachers, and sometimes the

1807—1809.] THE DINAPORE MINISTRY, 5"

SO cautiously that be used an account of one of the A^vatars
of Vishnu as a text-book, solacing himself with the thought
that it could do no harm, as his pupils could not understand
a word of it.

But these were his voluntary labours. His appointed
duties were of another kind. He was receiving a salary .of
a thousand a year as one of the Company's miHtary chaplains.
In this capacity he did his work with conscientious labori-
ousness 5 but he does not -seem to have regarded it as any-
thing more than a necessary and inconvenient appendage
to the more important functions which he believed had
been delegated to him by God. There was no church at
Dinaporej but he performed the service in a building
devoted to secular purposes, and he preached to such con-
gregations as the heat would allow to attend his ministrations.
He said that there were four hundred soldiers and forty-five

conversations which he held with them. The following appears under
date January 8, 1807 : * Pundit was telling me to-day, that there
was a prophecy in their books that the English should remain one
hundred years in India, and that forty years were now elapsed of that
period ; that there should be a great change, and that they (the
English) should be driven out by a King's son, who should then bt:
bom. Telling this to Moonshee, he said that about the same time
the Mussulmans expected some great events, such as the coming of
Dujjel, and the spread of Islamism over the earth. The singular
coincidence of the period of the accomplishment of these things, with
the time at which, according to some, the millennium will begin, struck
me very much, and kept that gk>rious day before my mind all the
day.' This is curious, but there is obviously something wrong in the
chronology. The English had, at that time, been masters of Bengal
not forty, but fifty years ; and the coincidence of which Martyn speaks
really did not exist, the date of the maturity of one prophecy being
1857, the date of the other, 1867.

512 THE REV, HENRY MARTY N, [1807— 1809.

officers at the station.* The society was by no means coo*
genial to him. He was a plain speaker^ much as it pained
him to speak plainly. He looked upon what he regarded
as the duty of vehemently reprobating worldliness of every
kind as one of his especial crosses. He never seems to have
thought that he might have done more good for the souls
of his brethren if he had spoken more mildly to their ears
and more persuasively to their understandings j and yet he
every now and then reproaches himself for conforming too
much to the ways of the world, and giving way to what he
called ' levity * in society. His friend Mr Corrie,t who had
followed him, after a little space, to India, did much more
good than Henry Martyn, because he was more tender and
genial in his ministrations. Corrie seems to have read the
Bible right through 5 but a mist seems to have gathered
before Martyn*s eyes when he approached the most loving
passages of the sacred book.

But in all this there was one consistent stream of the
great heroism of self-abnegation flowing purely, though
disastrously, through his life. Looking upon happiness as
a crime, if he made a spectacle unpleasing to his Maker^ he
tortured himself most painfully. Even the duties imposed
upon him by his profession as a military chaplmn, such as
attending levees or social gatherings of the officers, he
regarded as offences against God. If they were so, he should
have given up his chaplaincy and his thousand a year, and
have gone into the villages to preach the Grospel of salvation.

♦ This number was greatly increased afterwards by the arrival of
the Sixty-seventh R^ment

t The Reverend Daniel — afterwards Bishop — Corrie.

i8o9-io.] THE CAWNPORE MINISTRY, 513

If he could not — I will not say serve God and Mammon at
the same time, but — ^render unto Caesar the things which
are Caesar's, and unto Grod the things which are God*s, he
should have thrown up Caesar*s commission, and freed him-
self from what he conceived to be the bondage of his soul.
In April, 1809, under orders from the higher authorities,
Martyn prepared to betake himself from Dinapore to Cawn-
pore. The hot winds were blowing like the blasts of a
furnace, but with characteristic disregard of his creature
comforts, he put himself in a palanquin, wanting all the
appliances that could mitigate the painfulness of such a
journey, and even scantily provided with necessary food.
The marvel is that it did not kill him outright. He arrived
in a state of pitiable weakness, and fainted as soon as he
was removed from the palanquin. But in Captain Sher-
wood and his accomplished wife he had good and hospitable
friends, who opened their house to him, and by their affec-
tionate ministrations restored him to such little health as he
was ever likely to enjoy in the world 5 and he was soon again
at his work. ' Nothing has occurred this last year,* he
wrote in 1810, 'but my removal to Cawnpore, and the
commencement of my ministry, as I hope it may be called,
among the Gentiles. This, with my endeavours to instruct
the servants, has been blessed by the Lord to the improve-
ment of my temper and behaviour towards them.' His
ministry among the Gentiles was little more than an occa-
sional address, from the verandah of his house, to a crowd
of beggars, who were attracted by the alms that he gave,
not by the Gk)spel that he preached. But he thought that
some of the seed he scattered might fall upon good ground.

VOL. I. 33

514 THE RE V, HENR Y MART YN, [i8ia

His professional life at Cawnpore very much resembled
that which he had passed at the Dinapore station. A church
was in course of erection, but, pending its completion, it
was the duty of the military chaplain to perform the service
in a barrack-room, at the General's house, or in the open
air, according to orders. It was wearisome and dishearten-
ing work, for he made little progress, and there were few who
listened to the Word.* Of the manner in which his week-
days were spent at this time, he has himself given an ac-
count in a letter to Lydia Grrenfell, who had never ceased
to hold a cherished place in his heart. 'We all live here,*
he wrote, ' in bungalows or thatched houses, on a piece of
enclosed ground. Next to mine is the church, not yet
opened for public worship, but which we make use of at
night with the men of the Fifty-third. Corrie hves with
me, and Miss Corrie with the Sherwoods. We usually rise
at daybreak and breakfast at six. Immediately after break-
fast we pray together, after which I translate into Arabic
with Sabat, who Hves in a small bungalow on my ground.
We dine at twelve, and sit recruiting ourselves with talking
a little about dear friends in England. In the afternoon, I
translate with Mirza Fitrut into Hindostanee, and Corrie
employs himself in teaching some native Christian boys,

* On the 1 8th of February, i8io, he wrote in his journal : * My
birthday ; to-day I completed my twenty-ninth year. How much
had David Brainerd done at this time of life ! I once used to flatter
myself that, when entering my thirtieth year, I might have the happi-
ness of seeing an Indian congregation of saints won to the Gospel
through my preaching. Alas ! how far is this from being the case ;
scarcely even a European can I fix upon as having been awakened
under my ministry since commg here.'

i8ia] FAILING HEALTH. 515

whom he is educating with great care, in hopes of their
being fit for the office of catechist. I have also a school
on my premises for natives, but it is not well attended.
There are not above sixteen Hindoo boys in it at present \
half of them read the Book of Genesis. At sunset, we ride
or drive, and then meet at the church, where we often
raise the song of praise with as much joy, through the grac^
and presence of our Lord, as you do in England. Thus we
go on.'

But a change was now about to take place in his way of
life. His friends had for some time painfully observed that
as he grew in grace, he had waxed more and more feeble
in his physical health. The ravages of his old family dis-
order were visible upon a form which had never indicated
strength, and there were those who thought that the ap-
proach of death was discernible ' in the fine fading of his
delicate face.* If Martyn did not see this, he felt it j and
on the 19th of April, 1810, l^e wrote to Lydia Grenfell
this touching account of himself : ' I begin my correspond-
ence with my beloved Lydia, not without a fear of its being
soon to end. Shall I venture to tell you that our family
complaint has again made its appearance in me, with more
unpleasant symptoms than it has ever yet done ? However,
God, who two years ago redeemed my life from destruction,
may again, for his Church's sake, interpose for my deliver-
ance. Though, alas ! what am I, that my place should not
instantly be supplied with far more efficient instruments ?
The symptoms I mentioned are chiefly a pain in the chest,
occasioned, I suppose, by over-exertion the two last Sun-
days, and incapacitating me at present from all public duly.

5i6 THE REV, HENRY MARTYN, £i8ia

and even from conversation. You were mistaken in sup-
posing that my former illness originated from study. Study
never makes me ill — scarcely ever fatigues me ; but my
lungs — death is seated there j it is speaking that kills me.
May it give others life ! " Death worketh in us, but life in
you.'* Nature intended me, as I should judge from the
structure of my frame, for chamber counsel, not for a
pleader at the bar. But the call of Jesus Christ bids me
call aloud. I spare not. As his minister, I am a debtor both
to the Greek and to the Barbarian. How can I be silent
when I have both ever before me, and my debt not paid ? *
From this time a beautiful resignation appears to have
descended upon him, and he grew outwardly more cheerful
in his manners. Most true is it that ' one fire bums out
another's burning.' A deep-seated affection of the lungs
was destroying Henry Martyn, and the biliary disorder
which had rendered him so irritable and so desponding,
seems to have been burnt out by the tubercular disease.
But although sober biography is bound to take account of
this, we may believe that this increase of cheerfulness was
in part the growth of a sustaining sense of his good -work,
and the comforting reflection that it would soon be said to
him — * Well done, thou good and faithfiil servant, enter
into thy rest.* He had not altogether given up the thought
of doing real missionary work in the apostolic or sent-forth
sense of the word. But he wrote to a friend, saying : ' To
the hardships of missionaries we are strangers; yet not
averse, I trust, to encounter them when we are called. My
work at present is evidently to translate j hereafter I may
itinerate.'

i8io.] VISIT TO CALCUTTA, 517

And indeed the time had come for him to ' itinerate j '
but not in the sense here recognized. It was plain that to
remain at Cawnpore would be to die at his post. So, after
much reflection and much prayer, he determined that, with
the permission of the temporal authorities and with the ap-
proval of the recognized * Patriarch * of the English Church,
David Brown, he would fulfil his long-cherished project of
journeying to Persia, there to improve his knowledge of its
language, to obtain assistance in the translation of the Scrip-
tures, and to dispute with the Moollahs. So he went down
to Calcutta, and, ' after consulting with the Patriarch,' saw
the Governor-General, Lord Minto, and the Adjutant-Gen-
eral of the army, and obtained their sanction to his depart-
ure on sick leave. ' So it strikes me/ he said in a letter to
Mr Corrie, ' a way is opened and an intimation given of the
will of God : may my journey be for the prosperity of Zion.
My ship has dropped down (the river).*

He was very weak when he reached Calcutta 5 and the
dear friends, with whom he now again took sweet counsel,
after a separation of years, saw plainly that he was fading
away. Among these friends was one companion of formei
years, with whom it was a delight to talk of old Cambridge
days and Mr Simeon. This was the Reverend Thomas
Thomason, now also a chaplain in the Company's service —
one of the best and most lovable of men. When he saw
Martyn's wasted frame and his sunken cheeks, he was moved
with a great compassion, and he felt that the days of his
friend were numbered. Writing to Mr Simeon at this
time, he said : * He (Martyn) is on his way to Arabia, where
he is going in pursuit of health and knowledge. You know

5i8 THE RE V. HENR Y MAR TYN. [i8m.

his genius, and what gigantic strides he takes in eveiything.
He has some great plan in his mind, of which I am no
competent judge, but as far as I do understand it, the ob-
ject is far too grand for one short life, and much beyond
his feeble and exhausted frame. Feeble it is, indeed !
How fallen and changed. His complaint lies in his lungs,
and appears to be an incipient consumption. ... In all
other respects he is exactly the same as he was. He shines
in all the dignity of love, and seems to carry about him
such a heavenly majesty as impresses the mind beyond de-
scription. But, if he talks much, though in a low voice, he
sinks, and you are reminded of his very *'dust and ashes.*' *
Yet, for all this, he could not be persuaded to spare himself.
He wanted rest, and a total cessation, at all events, from
all physical labour 5 but he over-exerted and strained him-
self by preaching every Sunday, during his stay in Calcutta,
in a spacious church, with scarcely voice enough to fill an
ordinary room.

I have already narrated, in a previous Memoir, how
Henry Martyn sailed to Bombay with Mountstuart Elphin-
stone as his fellow-passenger. As on the voyage from
England, he suffered greatly from sea-sickness as the vessel
tossed down the Bay of Bengal.* Then sitting veiy help-

* See the Journals and Correspondence, edited by Bishop Wilber-
force. * January 10 to 12. — Sea-sickness incapacitated me for every-
thing ; was, as usual in such cases, very low-spirited ; felt perfectly
weary of travelling,' &c * I3tli. — Was too sick to have divine serv-
ice, but at night, in cabin, jead to and prayed with the captain and
passengers.' * 14th to 17th. — Generally so sick that I could do no-
thing but sit on the poop. Mr £[lpliinstone] kindly entertained me
with information about India, with the politics of which he has such

i8ii.] VOYAGE TO BOMBAY, 519

less and miserable on the poop, he derived infinite solace
from the instructive conversation of his companion. It was
a relief to him, when they reached Ceylon, to be permitted
to go on shore. ' At length in the neighbourhood of Cey-
lon,* he wrote, 'we found smooth water, and came to an-
chor off Colombo, the principal station in the island. The
captain having proposed to his passengers that they should
go on shore and refresh themselves with a walk in the cin-
namon gardens, Mr E[lphmstone] and myself availed our-
selves of the offer, and went off to inhale the cinnamon
breeze. The walk was delightful.' On the following day
they set sail again and doubled Cape Cormorin. Then as
Martyn looked out on the sea-coast and on the churches,
which here and there were visible from the deck of the
ship, he thought of the coast of Cornwall and of his beloved
Lydia, and he sat down in his cabin and wrote to her, say-
ing : ' Was it these maritime situations that recalled to my
mmd Perran church, or that my thoughts wander too often
on the beach to the east of Truro ? You do not tell me
whether you ever walk there and imagine the billows that
break at your feet to have made their way from India. But
why should I wish to know ? Had I observed silence on
that day and thenceforward, I should have spared you much
trouble and myself much pain. Yet I am far from regret-
opportunities of making himself acquainted. The Afghans, to whom
he went as ambassador to negotiate a treaty of alliance, in case of in>
▼asion, against the French, possess a tract of country considerably
larger than Great Britain, using the Persian and Pushtoo languages.
Mr £. has been with Holkar and Scindiah a good deal. Holkar he
describes as a litde spitfire,' &c. &c«

520 THE REV, HENRY MARTYN. [i8ir.

ting that I spoke^ since I am persuaded that all things wiD
work together for good.* And then^ as though he were
angry with himself for the expression of so much u^armto
of feeling, he fell back into the old strain of self-deprecia-
tion, and cooled his ardour by every possible kind of dis-
couragement. ' As for what we should be together,* he
added, ' I judge of it from our friends. Are they quite be-
yond the vexations of common life ? I think not 5 still I
do not say that it is a question whether they gained or lost
by marrying. Their affections will live when ours (I should
rather say mine) are dead. Perhaps it may be the effect of
celibacy, but I certainly begin to feel a wonderful indiffer-
ence to all but myself.*

On the 7 th erf" February they reached Goa, and on the
following day paid that visit to the tomb of Francis Xavier
which has been narrated at the commencement of this Me-
moir. On the 1 8th they anchored at Bombay. On the
following day Martyn went on shore, visited Governor
Duncan, and was lodged at Government House. In Bom-
bay he became acquainted with Sir James Mackintosh and
Sir John Malcolm. He appears to have made a different
impression on the minds of these two men 5 which may
partly be accounted for by the characteristic variableness of
Martyn's own temperament, and partly by a consideration
of the different temperaments of the lawyer and the soldier.
At all events, Martyn appeared to Malcolm an exceedingly
cheerful person. Of the latter, it is most true that ' a, mer-
rier man, within the limits of becoming mirth,' was seldom
seen ; and it would have been difficult to be otherwise than
cheerful under the genial influence of his sunny nature.

iSii.l FROM BOMBA Y TO PERSIA, 521

Certain at least it is, that he gave the young priest a letter
of introduction to the British Minister in Persia (Sir Gore
Ouseley), in which he said that Martyn was ' altogether a
very learned and cheerful man, but a great enthusiast in his
holy calling/ ' I am satisfied,* he added, ' that if you ever see
him, you will be pleased with him. He will give you grace
before and after dinner, and admonish such of your party
as take the Lord*s name \n vain 5 but his good sense and
great learning will delight you, whilst his constant cheerful-
ness will add to the hilarity of your party.* Although most
men were cheerful in Malcolm*s presence, I am inclined to
think that causes already stated had done much to increase
the habitual cheerfulness of Martyn*s temperament, although
Mackintosh did speak of him as the saint from Calcutta,
whose excessive meekness ' gave a disagreeable impression
of effort to conceal the passions of human nature.*

So, cheerfully, he went about his work, and passed from
India to the Persian Gulf. From Muscat he wrote, on the
23rd of April, 1811 : 'I lefl India on Lady-day, looked at
Persia on Easter Sunday, and seven days after found myself
in Arabia Felix. In a small cove, surrounded by bare rocks,
heated through, out of the reach of air as well as wind, lies
the good ship Benares, in the great cabin of which, stretched
on a couch, lie I. But though weak, I am well — relaxed,
but not disordered. Praise to His grace, who fulfils to me
a promise, which I have scarcely a right to claim — " I am
with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou
goest.'

tf *

Saa THE REV. HENRY MARTY N. [1811.

On the 30th of May, having obtained the means of
attiring himself in full Persian costume, and having sufiered
his beard and moustache to grow, he started for Shiraz.*
The heat was intolerable, and the hardships of the journey
almost killed him. They started in the coolness of the
night, but day had scarcely broken before the summer heats
began to threaten them. *At sunrise,* he >vrote in his
journal, * we came to our ground <t Ahmedee, six parasangs,
and pitched our little tent under a tree j it was the only
shelter we could get. At first the heat was not g^reater than
we had felt in India, but it soon became so intense as to be
quite alarming. When the thermometer was above 112
degs., fever heat, I began to lose my strength fast 5 at last
it became quite intolerable. I wrapped myself up in a
blanket and all the warm covering I could get, to defend
myself fi-om the external air j by which means the moisture
was kept a little longer upon the body, and not so speedily

* The following is the description of his costume, which he has
recorded in his journal : * On the 30th of May our Persian dresses
were ready, and we set out for Shiraz. The Persian dress consists of,
first, stockings and shoes in one j next, a pair of large blue trousers,
or else a pair of huge red boots ; then the shirt ; then the tunic ; and
above it the coat, both of chintz, and a great-coat. I have here
described my own dress, most of which I have on at this moment.
On the head is worn an enormous cone, made of the skin of the black
Tartar sheep, with the wool on. If to this description of my dress I
add that my beard and moustaches have been suffered to v^etate
undisturbed ever since I left India — ^that I am sitting on a Persian
carpet in a room without tables or chairs — ^and that I bury my hand
in the piUau without waiting for spoon or plate, you will give me
credit for being aheady an accomplished Oriental.' — SargenCs Lift
o/Marfyn.

i8ii.] JOURNEY TO SHIRAZ, 523

evaporated as when the skin was exposed. One of my
companions followed my example^ and found the benefit
of it. But the thermometer still risings and the moisture of
the body being quite exhausted^ I grew restless^ and thought
I should have lost my senses. The thermometer at last stood
at 126 deg. 5 in this state I composed myself^ and concluded
that^ though I might hold out a day or two^ death was

inevitable. Captain ^ who sat it out, continued to tell

the hour and height of the thermometer; and with what
pleasure did we hear of its sinking to 120 deg., 118 deg.,
&c. KX. last the fierce sun retired, and I crept out, more dead
than alive. It was then a difficulty how I could proceed on
my journey 5 for, besides the immediate effects of the heat,
£ had no opportunity of making up for the last night*s want
of sleep, and had eaten nothing. However, while they
were loading the mules, I got an hour*8 sleep, and set out,
the muleteer leading my horse, and Zachariah, my servant,
an Armenian of Ispahan, doing all in his power to encourage
me. The cool air of the night restored me wonderfully,
so that I arrived at our next munzil with no other derange-
ment than that occasioned by want of sleep. Expecting
another such day as the former, we began to make preparation
the instant we arrived on the ground. I got a tattie made
of the branches of the date-tree, and a Persian peasant to
water it \ by this means the thermometer did not rise higher
than 114 deg. But what completely secured me firom heat
was a large wet towel, which I wrapped round my head
and body, muffiing up the lower part in clothes. How
could I but be gratefiil to a gracious Providence for giving
me so simple a defence against what, I am persuaded, would

534 THE RE V, HENR Y MAR TYN. [1811.

have destroyed my life that day. We took care not to go
without nourishment as we had donej the neighbouring
village supplied us with curds and milk.*

On the pth of June he reached his destination, and a
few days afterwards he was in the midst of theological dis-
cussions with the Moollahs and other learned people of the
place. He appears at this time to have enjoyed unusually
good health and good spirits. He wrote cheerfully to his
friends, with less than the wonted amount of self-abasement
in his letters. His thoughts often reverted, not painfully, to
the Cornish coast and his ' dearest Lydia.' In one letter,
written in June, he says : * How continually I think of you,
and, indeed, converse with you, it is impossible to say. But
on the Lord*s-day in particular I find you much in my
thoughts. . . . On that day I indulge myself with a view
of the past, and look over again those happy days when,
in company with those I loved, I went up to the house of
God with a voice of praise. How, then, should I fail to
remember her, who, of all that are dear to me, is the dearest ?
It is true that I cannot look back to many days, nor even
many hours, passed with you. Would they had been more !
but we have become more acquainted with each other. . . .
It was a momentary interview, but the love is lasting — ever-
lasting. . . . Let me here say, with praise to our ever-
gracious heavenly Father, that I am in perfect health ; of
my spirits I cannot say much, I fancy they would be better
were the beloved Persis by my side. This name, which I
once gave you, occurs to me this moment, I suppose, because
I am in Persia, intrenched in one of its valleys, separated
from Indian fiiends by chains of mountains and a roaring

i8ii.] AT SHIR A Z. 5^5

sea, among a people depraved beyond all belief, in the power
of a tyrant guilty of every species of atrocity. Imagine a
pale person seated on a Persian carpet, in a room without a
table or chair, with ^ pair of formidable moustaches and
habited as a Persian, and you see me.*

' Here I expect to remain six months,' he wrote, a few
days afterwards, to the same sweet friend. ^ The reason is
this : I found, on my arrival here, that our attempts at Per-
sian translation in India were good for nothing 5 at the same
time, they proposed, with my assistance, to make a new
translation. It was an offer I could not refuse, as they
speak purest Persian.' But he did not make much progress,
and he wrote on the 12th of September to his friend Daniel
Corrie : ' I do not find myself improving in Persian j indeed,
I take no pains to speak it well, not perceiving it to be
much consequence. India is the land where we can act at
present with most elffect. It is true that the Persians are
more susceptible, but the terrors of an inquisition are always
hanging over them. I can now conceive no greater hap-
piness than to be settled for life in India, superintending
national schools, as we did at Patna and Chunar. To preach
so as to be readily understood by the poor, is a difficulty
that appears to me almost insuperable.' To the same old
and beloved friend he wrote again in December, saying that
he had excited some Mahomedan indignation, and that he
had been stoned. 'They continued,* he said, 'throwing
stones at me every day, till happening one day to tell Jafl5er
Ali Khan> my host, how one as big as my fist had hit me
in the back, he wrote to the governor, who sent an order
to all the gates, that if any one insulted me he should be

5a6 THE REV. HENRY MARTYN. fi8i2.

bastinadoed \ and the next day came himself in state to pay
me a visit. These measures have had the desired effect \
they now call me the Feringhee Nabob, and very civilly
offer me the Calean j but indeed the Persian commonalty are
very brutes. The Soofies declare themselves unable to ac-
count for the fierceness of their countrymen, except it be
from the influence of Islam.'

All through the early months of the year i8ia he went
on in the same way, now translating, now studying, now
disputing with the MooUahs, now taking sweet counsel with
his distant friends. His spirits, at this time, seem to have
been sensibly affected by protracted isolation from all his
Christian friends, and he began to long for India and com-
panionship again. ' This is my birthday,' he wrote in his
journal on the i8th of February, * on which I complete my
thirty-first year. The Persian New Testament has been
begun, and I may say finished in it, as only the last eight
chapters of the Revelation remain. Such a painful year I
never passed, owing to the privations I have been called to
on the one hand, and the spectacle before me of human
depravity on the other. But I hope I have not come to
this seat of Satan in vain. The word of God has found its
way into Persia, and it is not in Satan's power to oppose its
progress, if the Lord hath sent it.' A fortnight afterwards
the work was completed, and he thanked God from the
bottom of his heart.

In the second week of May he left Shiraz in company
with a cafilah.* He was eager to present his translation

• Or caravan. Mr Sargent says he started on the 24th of May,
which is obviously a mistake. His journal shows that he was some
way on his journey by that time.

i8i2.] DEPARTURE FROM SHIRAZ. 527

of the Bible to the King of Persia, and he strove mightily
to this end 5 but official obstructions in the first instance, and
afterwards utter prostration from illness, baffled bis endeav-
ours, and he was obliged to content himself with presenting
it to the Ambassador. He had enjoyed more than his ac-
customed amount of health and strength at Shiraz, but the
fatigues of the journey and the alternations of heat and
cold, seem to have affected him severely, and fever and
ague of the worst type seized upon his frail body. For
some time he lay prostrate and delinous, hovering between
life and death j in intervals of sanity thinking of his beloved
friends in England, and believing that there was little hope
of ever seeing them again. On the 9th of July, he wrote
from Tabriz : * My fever never ceased to rage till the 21st,
during all which time every effort was made to subdue it,
till I had lost all my strength, and almost all my reason.
They now administer bark, and it may please God to bless
the tonics, but I seem loo far gone j I can only say, '^ having
a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better." '
Three days after, he wrote to Lydia Grenfell : ' I have ap-
plied for leave to come on furlough to England. Perhaps
you will be gratified by this intelligence j but oh, my dear
Lydia, I must faithfully tell you that the probability of my
reaching England alive is but small.' All through the re-
mainder of that month of July he lay struggling with death,
but early in August he rallied a little, and at the end of the
first week he wrote to Mr Simeon : ' Ever since I wrote,
ibout a month, I believe, I have been lying upon the bed
of sickness. For twenty days or more the fever raged with
great violence, and for a long time every species of medi-
cine was used in vain. After I had given up every hope of

528 THE REV, HENRY MARTYN. [iSia.

recovery, it pleased God to abate the fever, but incessant
headaches succeeded, which allowed me no rest day or night.
I was reduced still lower, and am now a mere skeleton ;
but as they are now less frequent, I suppose it to be the
will of Grod that I should be raised up to life again. I am
now sitting in my chair, and wrote the will with a strong
hand \ but, as you see, I cannot write so now.'

On the 2nd of September, all things being ready, Hemy
Martyn set out on his long journey of thirteen hundred
miles to England, ' carrying letters from Sir Grore Ouseley
for the Governors of Erivan, Kars, and Erzeroum, and the
Ambassador at Constantinople 3 from Mr Morier for his
father there, and from Cajoo Aratoon, Sir Grore's agent,
for the Patriarch, and Bishop Nestus at Echmiazin, and
near three hundred tomauns in money.* On the morning
of the nth of September he arrived at Erivan. From
Erivan he went on to Echmiazin, where he was most kindly
received by the Patriarch and the Bishops, and after a few
pleasant days passed in the great Armenian monastery — the
last glimpse of pleasure ever permitted to him in this world
— ^he pursued his journey, crossed the Turkish fi-ontier, and
on the 2ist of September rode into Kars. On the follow-
ing day, he left this now celebrated place with a Tartar
guide, and made his way to Enteroum, where he halted for
three or four days, and then again pressed forward. But
there were now symptoms of a return of his malady; he
grew weaker and weaker as he went on. The ^tigues of
the journey were more than he could bear. Riding on
rough horses over rough roads, with a half-savage guide who
had litde compassion for him, he was dragged S'om place

i8ia.] APPROACH OF DBA TH, 529

to place, often through heavy rain, with little rest allowed
to him, until his small remaining strength succumbed to
the hardships and privations of the journey. He still, how-
ever, continued to make some entries in his journal, and on
the 2nd of October he wrote : * Some hours before day, I
sent to tell the Tartar I was ready, but Hassan Aga was for
once riveted to his bed. However, at eight, having got
strong horses, he set off at a great rate, and over the level
ground he made us gallop as fast as the horses would go to
Chifflick, where we arrived at sunset. I was lodged, at my
request, in the stables of the post-house, not liking the scru-
tinizing impudence of the fellows who frequent the coffee-
room. As soon as it began to grow a little cold, the ague
came on and then the fever j after which I had a sleep,
which let me know too plainly the disorder of my frame.
In the night Hassan sent to summon me away, but I was
quite unable to move. Finding me still in bed at the
dawn, he began to storm furiously at my detaining him so
long, but I quietly let him spend his ire, ate my breakfast
composedly, and set out at eight. He seemed determined
to make up for the delay, for we flew over hill and dale to
Sherean, where we changed horses. From thence we
travelled all the rest of the day and all night. It rained
most of the time. Soon after sunset the ague came on
again, which in my wet state was very trying. I hardly
knew how to keep my life in me.* There was, indeed, but
a little feeble flickering life lefl: in his frail body.

He was now dying fast. It had come, indeed, to be
only a question of days. On the jth of October he wrote

in his journal : ' Preserving mercy made me see the light
VOL. r. 34

530 THE REV, HENRY MARTYN. [i8ii

of another morniug. The sleep had refreshed mey but I
wac feeble and shaken, yet the merciless Hassan hurried
me off. The munzil, however, not being distant^ I reached
it without much difficulty. I was pretty well lodged, and
felt tolerably well till a little after simset, when the ague
came on with a violence I had never before experienced}
I felt as if in a palsy ; my teeth chattering, and my whole
frame violently shaken. Aga Hosyn and another Per-
sian on their way here from Constantinople, going to Ab-
bas Mirza, whom I had just before been visiting, came
hastily to render me assistance, if they could. These
Persians appear quite brotherly after the Turks. While
they pitied me, Hassan sat in perfect indifference, rumin-
ating in the further delay this was likely to occasion. The
cold fit, after continuing two or three hours, was followed
by a fever, which lasted the whole night, and prevented
sleep.* On the following day he wrote : ' No horses being
to be had, I had an unexpected repose. I sat in the or-
chard, and thought with sweet comfort and peace of my
God \ in solitude, my companion, my fiiend and comforter.
Oh ! when shall time give place to eternity ? when shall
appear that new heaven and new earth wherein dwelleth
righteousness ? There, there shall in no wise enter in any-
thing that defileth : none of that wickedness which has
made men worse than wild beasts — ^none of those corrup-
tions which add still more to the miseries of mortality, shall
be seen or heard of any more.'

These were the last words that he ever wrote. Whether
he sunk imder the disorder against which he had so long
been painfully contending, or whether the Plague, which

i8i2.] HIS CHARACTER, 53i

was then raging^ seized him^ is not known \ but ten days
afterwards, at Tokat, Henry Martyn entered into his rest.*
There is little need to dwell upon a character which
has illustrated itself so clearly in the passages which I have
given from Henry Martyn*s own letters and journals. No
one has ever laid bare his heart more unsparingly than this
young Protestant priest. Evangelical history claims him as
a missionary ) but he was not a missionary i he was simply
an Indian Officer — an officer upon the ecclesiastical estab-
lishment of the East India Company — a military chaplain
under the orders of the military authorities. That his heart
was in the missionary work, with which he supplemented
his official duties, not in the business proper of the chap-
laincy, is certain 3 but he was not less a chaplain before the
world because his missionary zeal burnt brightly in the
sight of Heaven. To what extent his earnestness and self-
devotion really contributed, directly or indirectly, to the
diffusion of a knowledge of the Grospel through the Eastern
world, cannot be rightly estimated j but he takes rank
among the apostles of Protestant Christianity, not in ac-
cordance with what he did, so much as with what he at-

* The date and place of Mr Martyn*s death, as given in Mr Sar-
gent's Life, are, I find, officially confirmed by the following extract of
a letter from Mr Morier, dated Constantinople, 3rd November, 1812 :
* I am concerned to have to state, for the information of the Honour-
able the Court of Directors, that the Reverend Henry Martyn, chap-
lain of Cawnpore, died at Tokat, a town in Asia Minor, on his way
hither from Tabriz, about the beginning of last month. I take the
liberty of enclosing a letter for his sister, Miss Harriet Mart)ni, to
whom I give the unpleasant intelligence. I have mentioned that
the death of the Reverend Mr Martyn happened on the i6th of last
month.*

532 THE REV. HENRY MARTYN. [iSi*

tempted to do j for he ever strove mightily to accomplish
the great and glorious ends which he had set before him,
and never shrunk from any martyrdom of self.

That much of this martyrdom was a superfluous waste
of that human happiness which^ as far as we are enabled to
see things in a glass darkly, is acceptable in the sight of the
Almighty, will appear to most readers of this story. He
seems, as I have already said, to have read one part of the
Christian character with wonderful clearness and distinctness,
but a dim suffusion veiled his eyes when he approached
those other lessons which combine the beautiful with the
sublime of the picture. Truly has it been said, but with
no reference to the subject of this Memoir, by a modern
writer, whose wise and tender utterances have reached me
whilst I have been writing these pages, that 'it is a great
mistake to suppose that God can dispense with the cultiva-
tion of any of our powers. The man who systematically
lets mind and body go to wreck whilst he cares exclusively
for what he considers *' the interests of his soul," is in a feir
way to spend a joyless and loveless old age, and to lie at
length in a forgotten tomb. Piety is only seen in its true
strength and beauty in the harmony of all the powers.
It sits as queen, but it is cheerless and joyless without its
court. A cleanly, pure, robust body j a cultivated, well-
stored, and penetrating mind 5 a large, tender, and sympa-
thetic heart, as well as a pious, believing spirit, go to make
old age honoured and blest.* * Henry Martyn never
lived to see the autumn of life, and assuredly he has not

* * The Home Life ; in the Light of its Divine Idea,' by James
Baldwin Brown.

i8i2.] HIS CHARACTER. 533

lain in a forgotten tomb. But the cardinal truth contained
in this passage is not the less applicable to the story of his
life. His errors were heroic, but they were errors. And
his career, therefore, must be regarded as much in the light
of a warning as of an example.

In the library of the University of Cambridge is to
be seen a portrait of Henry Martyn,* the bequest of

♦ This picture was painted in Calcutta for Mr Simeon, when
Martyn was sojourning there in i8io-ii, before his embarkation for
Persia. It reached England only a few days before he closed his eyes
on the world for ever. How deeply Mr Simeon was aflfected by the
first sight of the portrait, he has himself recorded in a letter dated the
1 2th of October, 1812. 'On Monday I opened and put up the
picture of my ever dear and honoured brother, Mr Martyn. I kad,
indeed, after it was opened at the India House, gone to see it there,
and, notwithstanding all that you had said respecting it to prepare my
mind, I was so overpowered by the sight, that I could not bear to
look upon it, but turned away and went to a distance, covering my
face, and, in spite of every effort to the contrary, crying aloud with
anguish ; E. was with me ; and all the bystanders said to her, ** That,
I suppose, is his father." And I think it probable, that if I hadht&a.
his father, or his mother either, I should not have felt more than I
did on the occasion. Shall I attempt to describe to you the venera-
ation and the love with which I look at it ? No words that I can
write will convey an adequate idea ; nothing but your own tender
mind can exactly conceive what I feeL I remember (indeed, can
never forget) the look of a certain lady, when the thought of your
going to India was last suggested to her. One might endeavour to
describe the mixed emotions that were then depicted in her counten-
ance ; but it must have been seen in order to be imderstood and ap-
preciated : so I should in vain attempt to describe what I feel, and
trust I shall long continue to feel, in looking on that image of my
beloved friend. In seeing how much he is worn, I am constrained
to call to my relief the thought in whose setiHce he has worn himself so
much ; and this reconciles me to the idea of weakness, or sickness, or
even, if God were so to appoint, of death itsel£'

534 THE REV, HENRY MARTYN. [i8xa.

Mr Simeon j and in the chancel of Trinity church is a
monumental tablet bearing the following inscription :

THIS TABLBT
IS BRSCTBD TO THE MEMORY OF

THE REV. HENRY MARTYN, B.D.,

FELLOW OP ST John's college,

AND TWO YEARS CURATE OP THIS PARISH.
HE GAINED BY HIS TALENTS THE HIGHEST ACADBMICAI, HOMOUXtS ;
BUT COUNTING ALL LOSS FOR CHRIST,
HE LEFT HIS NATIVE COUNTRY, AND WENT INTO THE KAST,
AS A CHAPLAIN OF THE HON. BAST INDIA COMPANY.
THERE, HAVING FAITHFULLY DONE THE WORK OF AN KVANGKUST,
IN PREACHING THE GOSPEL OF A CRUCIFIED REDBBMKR,
IN TRANSLATING THE HOLY SCRIPTURES INTO THE ORIENTAL. LANGUACaS,
AND IN DEFENDING THE CHRISTIAN FAITH IN THE HEART OF PERSIA
AGAINST THE UNITED TALENTS OP THE MOST LEARNED MAHOMBTANS,
HE DIED AT TOKAT, ON THE z6TH OF OCTOBER, z8l3,
IN THE 3ZST YEAR OF HIS AGE.*
THE CHIEF MONUMENTS WHICH HE LEFT OF HIS PIETY AND TALENTS ABE
TRANSLATIONS OF THE NEW TESTAMENT
INTO THE HINDOSTANEE AND PERSIAN LANGUAGES ; AND
'by THESE HE, BEING DEAD, YET SPEAJCETH.'

*PRAY YE THE LORD OF THE HARVEST,
THAT HE WILL SEND FORTH LABOURERS INTO HIS HjiXySST,

* It should have been ' 32nd year*'

535

SIR CHARLES METCALFE.

Cborm X785.— DIBD X846.I

IN the summer of the year 1805, in the neighbourhood
of the city of Muttra, in the Upper Provinces of India,
where a di\ision of Lord Lake's army was posted, two Eng-
lish gentlemen were conversing eagerly together in a tent.
In the papers which lay upon the table, and the frequent
references which were made to them, there were manifest
signs that the intercourse between the two was not merely
of a personal character. Except in respect of a common
earnestness of manner, there was no sort of resemblance
between them. The one was a tall, handsome, soldierly
man in the very meridian of his life. The other was younger
by many years 5 much shorter and much plainer. The
elder of the two men was Colonel John Malcolm j the
younger was Mr Charles Theophilus Metcalfe — a civilian
upon the Bengal establishment — who had accompanied
Lord Lake's army into the field, in the capacity of Political
Assistant to the Commander-in-Chief.

In the diplomatic service to which the young civilian
was attached, there was, at that time, perhaps, no greater
name than that of John Malcolm. It was the great har-

536 S/I? CHARJ.BS METCALFE. [1805.

vest-time of fame. Men seemed to rise, almost by a single
bound, from a state of obscure subalternship into the fiill
meridian blaze of historical renown. This had been Mal-
colm's lot within the six or seven years preceding this
meeting with Charles Metcalfe in the camp at Muttra. To
the latter, therefore, it was a great event. It stimulated his
energies and rekindled his ambition. What the train of
thought suggested, and what effect it had upon his actions,
may best be told in young Metcalte's own words. Writing
to a cherished friend in Calcutta, he said : ' On the day
after his arrival in camp. Colonel Malcolm, to my surprise
(for I could scarcely call myself acquainted with him)
entered in a full, friendly, and flattering manner into the
question of my intentions — with friU confidence, he laid
open to me the various plans which were in contemplation,
gave me admission to all his papers, and by appearing to
interest himself in my welfare, prepared me to listen to him
with great attention. He expatiated on the great field of
political employment now open in Hindostan, the necessity
of many appointments and missions, the superiority, as he
seems to think, of my claims, and the great risk, if not cer-
tain injury, of my quitting the scene of action. By holding
out the offer of distinction, he gained the important outwork
of desire, and the citadel of resolve was in danger of falling.
It did not immediately yield, however, and notwithstanding
all he said, I clung fondly to my rooted and long-indulged
intention of returning to Calcutta and of paying my last re-
spects to Lord Wellesley. There was, however, sufiScient
in what Malcolm said to induce me to reflect seriously on
the step I should take. I did not converse with Malcolm

i8os.] EARL Y ASPIRA TIONS, 537

again for five days^ and in that period^ the subject was ever
in my mind^ and I never experienced such irresolution on
any occasion in which I had the power of self-decision.
Exclusive of the reasons suggested by Malcolm for my re-
maining, others occurred to me which he could not men-
tion. I have long, as you know, looked upon the political
as my line of service, and although I have seen what people
call native courts, and have passed over many countries, I
have had the misfortune of being xmder men whose talents,
knowledge, and character, or rather want of these, I could
not admire ; who gave no encouragement to my desire to
learn 5 who, on the contrary, rather made me sick of my
pursuit of knowledge. I have felt myself degraded by my
situation, and instead of studying acquaintance with the
natives, I have shrunk from notice as much as possible.
My knowledge, therefore, is only that which I acquired in
the Govemor-General*8 office, and which, though highly
useful, does not in itself qualify a man to be a political
agent. The opportunity of acting under a man of Mal-
colm's talents and reputation, established knowledge, inqui-
sitive genius, and communicative disposition, promises ad-
vantages of the most solid and certain nature and of real
importance. I could not, however, give up my desire to
visit Calcutta, and my second conversation with Malcolm
ended in our agreeing that I should run down to Calcutta
and return quickly. On the same evening, however, he
strongly advised me not to go 3 and the next day we had a
long conversation, which ended in my^ being very uncertain
what to do. I think, however, clearly that I shall stay j
but I never did anything^ with more reluctance^ I long to

538 5//? CHARLES METCALFE, [iSqj

see our glorious Wellesley before be quits us. Malcolm
teUs me tbat I cannot better show my gratitude to Lord
Wellesley than by assisting in scenes in which he will always
have great interest.*

So after some further doubts and self-questionings he
resolved to remain with the army and to take his leave of
the ' glorious Wellesley * by letter. ' Malcolm,' he wrote
on the nth of June, ' who will manage all political con-
cerns at head-quarters, has expressed a wish that I should
remain on his account, expecting to derive more assistance
from me than I fear he will. This subject fills my mind,
and it is with very great difficulty that 1 can reconcile myself
to the overthrow of my plans — ^plans which I have so long
ruminated over with anticipated delight. I rest my chief
consolation on Malcolm's character, and the useful know-
ledge that I shall obtain, whilst with him. It is my inten-
tion to cultivate his intimacy zealously. His advances to
me have been very flattering. I foresee one thing 5 he is a
likely man to give my mind a turn towards literary pursuits,
which have scarcely ever entered my imagination — nay, he
already has. He himself is an enthusiast.' And, because
he was an enthusiast, he had succeeded nobly in life. Be-
cause he was an enthusiast, he had discerned the fine quali-
ties of the young civilian, in whom also there was a pure
and generous enthusiasm, waiting only for opportunity to
display itself in great and good deeds. There was some-
thing thorough about him that especially pleased Malcolm.
Young as he was, he expounded his views, in favour of the
prosecution of the * great game,* with all the resolution of
a veteran politician. Steeped as he was in admiration of

1785—1800.] BIRTH AND PARENTAGE, 539

Lord Wellesley^ he was still more ardent in his attachment
to the political faith which he cherished^ and he could per-
ceive and discuss the shortcomings of the 'glorious little
man/ which were then becoming apparent to the war-party
in camp. No man knew better than Malcolm the real state
of things at Government House^ for he was in close and con-
fidential correspondence with Colonel Arthur Wellesley,
and the letters which he then received plainly indicated that
much toil and trouble and sore vexation had weakened the
gallant resolute spirit of the Grovemor-General^ and that he
was not now what he had been in the earlier years of his
reign. Malcolm and Metcalfe, in close confidential talk^ be*
wailed the change ) and still more bitterly lamented that
Lord Cornwallis was coming out to India^ to undo^ as they
said^ the great work of his predecessor. Greatly as they
differed in age, in experience, and in many important points
of character, they were bound together by ties of strong
political sympathy, and it was a mutual pleasure to them to
discuss unreservedly the past, the present, and the future, of a
conjuncture of events at that time unexampled in the histoxy
of our Indian £mpire.

Charles Theophilus Metcalfe was then in his
twenty-first year. Bom in Calcutta on the 30th of Janu-
ary, 1785, he was the second son of Major Metcalfe, an
ofiicer of the Company's army, who had amassed a consider-
able fortune, as fortunes were amassed, rapidly, in the days of
'\^'arren Hastings, when a lucrative contract was a sure road
to sudden wealth. Having made his fortune, he did as

540 S/Jd CHARLES METCALFB. fiSoo.

Others did, carried it away to spend in England^ and took
his place among the ' nabobs ' of the eighteenth century.
He bought an estate in Yorkshire; canvassed^ and with
success, for the £ast India direction ; and obtained for him-
self a seat in Parliament, in the good old days of Toryism
and Pitt. As he always voted with the Minister^ and had
money enough to support a respectable position as a country
gendeman, with a house in Pordand-place, a baronetcy was
not an unattainable object of ambition. So Major Met-
calfe had not been many years in England before he rose
up ' Sir Thomas Metcalfe, Bart, j * * and what he owed, in
the first instance, to the accidents of fortune, he afterwards
dignified by his own native worth. He was a man of high
integrity of conduct, endowed with a solid understanding
rather than with any brilliant parts, and if he could not
conmiand the admiration of the world, he alwajrs enjoyed
ite respect.

In their early boyhood, his two sons, Theophilus and
Charles, were sent to a private school in one of the eastern
suburbs of London — Bromley, beyond Bow, not fer &om
the frontier-line of Middlesex and Essex; but after they
had received, in worthy Mr Tait*s academy, the rudiments
of their education, they were transplanted to Eton, where
they boarded at the house of Dr Groodall, afterwards head-
master and provost of the college. There young Charles^
or, Academice, Metcalfe Minor, applied himself assiduously
to his books rather than to cricket, to boating, or to fives.

^ These &cts are stated without regard to strict chronological
anraRgement Major Metcalfe was not created a baronet until hit
son Charles had been some years in India.

i8ooJ AT ETON. 541

Over and above the Latin and Greeks which in those days
were the be-all and end-all of public school education,
Metcalfe Minor read, in his own room, a number of books,
English and French, and improved himself by translating
the latter. From the study of French he proceeded to that
of Italian, and day after day, as his boyish journal declares,
* read Ariosto.' Even then he had promptings of young
ambition, and day-dreams of a great Future. He was
wont to pace the cloisters, and think of the days to come,
in which he might make for himself a place in history as a
great orator, a great statesman, a great soldier, or as the
liberator of an oppressed race.* Of more robust and
athletic pursuits we have no record under his own hand.
But many years afterwards, worthy Dr Goodall recorded
than he * heard the boys shouting one day, and went out
and saw young Metcalfe riding on a camel. So,* he added,
rather pleasandy than logically, * you see he was always
orientally inclined.*

♦ We have this on Charles Metcalfe's own authority. In a letter,
written soon after his arrival in India, to a friend, Mr Sherer (a name
still of high repute in the Indian Services), the young civilian wrote of
the days when he * heard the echo of his own footsteps in the cloisters of
his much-loved Eton.' * Ah, Sherer,' he added, * those were days of
real happiness. In those very cloisters has my youthful and ardent
imagination planned to itself a life of greatness, glory, and virtue —
there have I been the orator, and discussed important topics in the
Senate House — there have I been the statesman, prescribing terms to
the wondering nations of Europe — there have I concluded peaces,
commanded armies, or headed a party struggling for liberty ; or,
descending from these lofty views, there have I fancied myself, in the
enjo)rment of domestic happiness, the honoured patron of a neigh-
bouring hamlet.'

S4a Sm CHARLES METCALFE. [i8oa

That an £ast India Director should determine to pro-
vide for his sons in the East was only in the common order
of things. Major Metcalfe had made a fortune in India
with no great trouble, and his boys might easily do the
same. The best thing of all in those days was * a. China
writership.* The next was a writership in Bengal. So
Theophilus was set down for the former, and Charles for
the latter. Theophilus was a high-spirited, rather preco-
cious boy 5 and having, at a very early age, been allowed
to taste the delights of English society, was reluctant in the
extreme to be banished to Canton. Charles was not much
more eager to go Eastward j but his unwillingness was of a
different kind. He loved Eton ; he was warmly attached to
some of his schoolfellows | he loved his parents and his
kindred, and he loved his country. But he could plainly
see that there were the best possible reasons for his going
to India j and so he submitted, with a good grace, to the
painful decree. At the age of fifteen he was taken from
Eton, and sent out to Calcutta. He went, doubtless^ be-
cause his father had gone there before him ; because Major
Metcalfe, being an East India Director, was very properly
of opinion that Patronage, like Charity, ' should begin at
home.* But if the whole Court of Directors had ransacked
England, Scotland, and Ireland, in search of the likeliest
boy in the three kingdoms to grow into a serviceable Indian
statesman, they could not have found one with more of the
right stuff in him than in Charles Metcalfe.

On the 1st day of the year 1801, Charles Metcalfe set
foot on Indian soil, and was soon in the full enjoyment of
the strenuous idleness of the cold season in Calcutta. He

i8oi.] STATE OF THE SERVICE, 543

commenced his career at an interesting period of the history
of the Indian Civil Service. The great reforms of Lord
Comvirallis had purged and purified it. Men had good
wages for good work, and they did their duty conscientiously
and assiduously to their employers. The East India Com-
pany was still a trading company. It had all its com-
mercial privileges intact. The business of providing the in-
vestment was still a part of the duty of its servants. But
although they were called 'merchants,* 'factors,' and
' writers * (as, indeed, they were long afterwards), the com-
mercial duties of the Company's civil servants were dwarfed
by the other responsibilities which had fallen upon them.
The traders of Leadenhall-street, sorely against their will,
under violent protest, weeping and grimacing at their hard
fate, had been beaten by inexorable circumstance into shape
as princes and rulers of the land. Greatness had been thrust
upon them. They were masters no longer only of certain
factories upon the coast, but of three great Presidencies or
Governments. They had armies, and councillors, and am-
bassadors at foreign Courts. The ' pure mercantile bottom,'
on which they had been wont to sit, and to which they
clung with all the dogged tenacity of their race, had,
during the last few years, expanded under this mighty cor-
poration into an imperial throne -,

* What seemed its head
The likeness of a kingly crown had on ; '

and sorely bewildered it was sometimes under the pressure
of this unlooked-for encumbrance.

The greatest trouble of Leadenhall-street, at this time.

544 S/I^ CHARLES METCALFE, fi8oi

was Lord Wellesley. That ambitions statesman had vast
schemes, which were but little appreciated in the City
of London. Among them was one for the advancement
of learning generally, but more especially among the
Company's civil servants. The Directors, as I have already
shown,* were very eager to promote the moral w^elfare of
their young people in India 5 but as long as they wrote good
hands, could cast up accounts with precision, and behaved
with due steadiness and discretion, their honourable masters
do not appear to have troubled themselves much about the
intellectual elevation of the service. They had finished the
old century well by sending off a long and well-written
despatch, of which Charles Grant, the elder, is commonly
supposed to have been the author, protesting against the
habitual profanation of the Sabbath, and the general disre-
gard of religion, which were said to mark the proceedings
of their servants, and of society generally, in Bengal — most
especially in the great metropolis of Calcutta. The charge,
I am afraid, was too true. To use the words of a modem
writer : ' All the daily concerns of life went on as usual (on
Sundays), with the exception, perhaps, that there was some-
what more than the ordinary abandonment to pleasure.
At our military stations the flag was hoisted, and they who
saw it knew that it was Sunday. But the work-table and the
card-table were resorted to as on week-days. Christianity
cantered to the races in the morning, and in the evening
drove to a nautch.* Against all this — against the habitual
extravagance of the Company's servants — against the luxury
which had grown up amongst them, and the evil habits of
♦ Ante^ Memoir of Lord Comwallis.

x8oi.] STATE OF THE SERVICE, 545

horse-racingy card-playing^ and other fashionable indulgences
— ^there was now a vigorous protest issued under the direct-
ing hands of one of the best men who ever sat in Leaden-
hall-street. 'It is/ said that famous despatch, 'on the
quahties of our servants that the safety of the British pos-
sessions in India essentially depends — on their virtue, their
intelligence, their laborious application, their vigilance, and
public spirit. We have seen, and do still with pleasure see,
honourable examples of all these ^ we are anxious to preserve
and ktcrease such examples, and therefore cannot contem-
plate without alarm the excessive growth of fashionable
amusements and show, the tendency of which is to enervate
the mind and impair its nobler qualities — ^to introduce a
hurtful emulation in expense, to set up false standards of
merit, to confound the different orders in society, and to
beget an aversion to serious occupation.* And then, in a
subsequent paragraph, we have the following — ^the logic of
which, I confess, is much more convincing than any of the
Leadenhall-street logic which I have quoted in a preceding
Memoir : ' BeHeving,* says the despatch, ' that the enjoyment
of avowed honourable allowances would tend to promote,
among other honourable effects, a due regulation of expense,
the Company have, from such considerations, strained their
own means to put their servants on the most liberal footing 5
but whilst they feel themselves weighed down by the civil
and military charges of their establishments, they are still
frequently assailed, in one way or another, by new appUcations
for pecuniary concessions 5 and yet, at the same time that
we hear of straits and hardships resulting from inadequate

allowances, we not only discern evident marks of increasing
VOL. I. 35

546 S/J^ CHARLES METCALFE. [1801.

dissipation in the general habits of European society in India,
but in some a spirit of gaming publicly sho^wing itself id
lotteries and the keen pursuits of the turf.*

Nothing could be better than thisj but after-events
unhappily proved that there was either a want of sincerity
in it, or a want of capacity to view the w^hole question in a
comprehensive spirit. The Governor-General w^as espe-
cially exhorted to look into this matter, and to do everything
that possibly could be done to curb the licentiousness of
his subordinates. But when he hit upon the best possible
device for raising the character of the Company's civil serv-
ants, he met only with opposition and reproof.

At that time the Civil Service was recruited with boys
fresh from school. A stripling from the fifth form at Eton
was suddenly converted, in his teens, into an Indian admin-
istrator, and launched at once into a sea of temptation, at
an Indian presidency, to sink or to swim, according to the
degree of his own strength or of the power of the waves.
How he managed ' to fit himself for the public service,* it
was hard to say. His education was generally slender, and
in its slenderness not of a kind to qualify him for the
work of Indian administration. That good or bad angel
of Examination had not at that time flapped his wings
over the land. And yet, somehow or other, very good
public servants had been, as the Court of Directors acknow-
ledged, reared out of these adverse circumstances. Warren
Hastings and John Shore, Jonathan Duncan and George
Barlow — the Halheds, the Colebrookes, Neill Edmonstone,
and St George Tucker, had ripened under that system 5 and
Mountstuart Elphinstone was growing rapidly, and Butter-

x8ox.] LORD WBLLESLEY AND THE COLLEGE, 547

worth Bayley and Charles Metcalfe where beginning to
grow, when it occurred to Lord Wellesley that they would
grow stronger and straighter if they were sent to College
on their first arrival in India. And thinking of this, and
of other palpable wants of the great country which he had
been sent to govern, he conceived the idea of the College
of Fort WiUiam.

It was said of old by one great poet of another, that he
' did all like a man.* Lord Wellesley did all like a man 5
and with a manliness almost gigantic. It was not in him
to do anything on a small scale. When, therefore, he pro-
jected a College for the education of the younger servants
of Government, he set the stamp of his individuality on
such a magnificent design, that it fairly staggered the Com-
pany in London — ' the ignominious tyrants of Leadenhall-
street,* as he called them soon afterwards — the 'generous
benefactors * of a later period of his career. But it is not
improbable that the Court's despatch, quoted above, actu-
ally suggested the idea of the proposed institution. For it
was as early as October, 1799, that he wrote to Mr Dun-
das, saying: 'I think it necessary to apprize you of my
intention to adopt, without delay, a plan for the improvement
of the Civil Service at Bengal in a most important point.
The state of the administration of justice, and even of the
collection of the revenue, throughout the provinces, affords a
painful example of the inefficiency of the best code of laws
to secure the happiness of the people, unless due provision
has been made to ensure a proper supply of men qualified
to administer those laws in their different branches and
departments. This evil is felt severely in every part of

54B 5/J? CHARLES METCALFS. [1801.

this Government, and it rises principally from a defect at
the source and fountain-head of the service— »I mean the
education and early habits of the young gentlemen sent
hither in the capacity of writers. My opinion^ after fiill
deliberation of the subject, is decided — that the writers, on
their first arrival in India, should be subjected for a period of
two or three years to the rules and discipline of some collegi-
ate institution at the seat of Grovemment.* Having laid down,
in outline, what he proposed to teach — the languages and
laws of the country, the regulations of Government, &c,
he expressed a hope that, by means of such an institution,
habits of activity, regularity, and decency might be formed,
instead of those of sloth, indolence, low debauchery, and
vulgarity, which he said were ' too apt to grow on those
young men, who have been sent at an early age into the
interior parts of the country, and have laid the foundation
of their life and manners among the coarse vices and indulg-
ences of these countries.*

It was a word and a blow always with Lord Wellesley.
He conceived the idea, he wrote a letter, he established the
College. He did not wait to realize his magnificent con-
ceptions to the fill 1 ) he knew the importance of making a
beginning. When Charles Metcalfe arrived in India, the
great institution was in a crude inchoate state. The original
regulations for the foundation of the College of Fort WiUiam
had been published on the lothof July, 1800 j but Charles
Metcalfe, who arrived in India on the first day of i8oj,
was the first student to sign the statute-book \ and he did
not sign it until the 27th of April of that year. It would
appear from his journals, however, that one great collegiate

i8oi.] FIRST YEAR OF SERVICE, 549

feature was in existence at an earlier date, for in the pre-
ceding months he frequently recorded the fact that he had
' dined at college.' * I conclude that he was the first resident
member.

The novelty of Anglo-Indian life, for a time, was
pleasing to young Charles Metcalfe, so also was its in-
dependence J and all the chief people of the Presidency,
the Governor-General and Councillors included, opened
their houses to him. But with the hot weather came
weariness and exhaustion. The young civilian's spirits
failed him 5 and before the month of June had been gasped
out, he had written to his father, telling him that he hated
India, and that all his happiness in life depended upon his
being permitted to return home and obtain ' a small place
in Lord Grenville's office.' Now, if Charles Metcalfe had
been the son of a weak-minded mother, it is possible that
her entreaties might have prevailed against the paternal
judgment 5 but she was, fortunately, a lady in whom there
was as much sound sense as good feeling ; she saw at once
that her son had written under a temporary depression of
spirits, or, in the language of the day, 'vapours,* which
would soon pass away 5 and her expressive answer was — a,
box of pills. ' You may laugh at my sending them,' she
wrote, ' but I think you are bilious, and they will be of

great service You study too much. You should

dissipate a little. On account of your health you should relax.

• 'January 13. Dined at college. — Saturdayy 17. Dined at col-
lege, &c. &c. Monday f April 27. Read and signed the declaration,
and was admitted into college ; being the first ever admitted into the
College of Fort William.*

SSo SIR CHARLES METCALTB, [i8m.

Ride on horseback. When intense thinking is joined with
the want of exercise, the consequences must be bad.' The
answer of Major Metcalfe was drawn from his own book
of experience. ' I remember well,' he wrote, ' my own
feelings when I was an Ensign, and had been in the coun-
try about three months. I one morning (in a fit of bile)
waited on the commanding officer with an intention to
resign the service and return to England. Fortunately ior
me, the conversation at breakfast took a pleasant torn, m
which I bore an active part, and a hearty fit of laughter got
the better of my blue devils. I returned to my quarters
with a determination to persevere.' Indeed, it was a veiy
old story. There is no incident with which biography is
more familiar, than this early fainting at the outset of the
great march to Fame.

It was, perhaps, fortunate for Charles Metcalfe that in
those days there were no overland mails. Many months
elapsed before he could receive an answer to his appeal;
and before the parental replies reached Calcutta, the young
civilian had begun to take a more cheerfiil view of life,
and to think that he might do something to distinguish
himself in India, though he still clung to the belief that
there were better prospects before him in England. Even
then his young ambition had been fired. Whilst yet only
in his seventeenth year, he wrote in his journal, ' No one
possesses more ambition than I do ; and am I destined to
be great ? If I quit this country, I may be ; and it is one
of the reasons for my desiring it so ardently. I cannot help
thinking, should I hereafter be great, of the fervour with
which my biographer will seize upon these slight memor*

xSoi.J AT SCI NDI Airs COURT. 551

andums, and record them to an eager public as a proof of
my indulging in youth and in distant climes the idea of
becoming a great character on the theatre of the world.*
This was written in October 5 but before the end of the
year delivery came in the shape of active employment.
Lord Wellesley, who perceived that the youngster had
good stuff in him, emancipated him from the control of
the College of Fort William, and appointed him an Assist-
ant to the Resident at Scindiah's Court.

On his way to join his appointment, Charles Metcalfe
fell in with the camp of the Grovernor-General, and ob-
tained Lord Wellesley*s permission to accompany him to
Lucknow. There he caught his first glimpse of the
traditional splendour of the East, and found that the reality
even exceeded the romance. 'Everything/ he said, 're-
called to my memory the "Arabian Nights,*' for every
description of any such procession which I ever met with
in history, even the celebrated triumph of Aurelian when
he led Zenobia and Tiridates (Tetricus) captives, of which
Gibbon gives an account, was completely beggared by it.*
From Lucknow, he proceeded to join the camp of the
Resident at Scindiah's Court. This high political office
was then held by Colonel Collins — ^an early associate of Met-
calfe's fathei', who spoke of him affectionately as his ' old
friend Jack Collins.* But he had another name with the
general community, who called him 'King Collins,* for
he was a man of an imperious nature and an overbearing
temper. Charles Metcalfe did not want temper, but he
wanted tact 5 and he soon quarreUed with his chief. The
old soldier resented the clever self-sufficiency of the young

552 S/H CHARLES METCALFE, [iSoa—iSof

civilian, who argued and dogmatized, and was continually
rubbing himself against the angularities of King Ck>llios.
So there was a rupture. Metcalfe asked permission to
resign his appointment, and then returned to Calcutta.

It was well that he did so -, for soon after his return
to the Presidency, a seat was given to him in what was
called ' Lord Wellesley's office.' A little cluster of the
most promising young civilians was gathered together in
Government House, and did much important confidential
work under the superintendence of the Chief Secretaries,
or sometimes of the Governor-General himself. It was
the best possible nursery for infant statesmen, and thexe
were few who did not profit by the culture. Great events
were then taking shape in the womb of Time. We were
on the eve of that great conflict of which I have already
written — a conflict destined to change the entire aspect of
our £astem Empire, and to make the administration of
Lord Wellesley the most momentous in the whole range
of our Indian history. It was a great thing for young
Charles Metcalfe to take even a humble ministerial part in
these great transactions, under the eye of the Governor-
Greneral. Lord Wellesley was one to encoiu'age well those
who served him well. To the men who did not grudge
their work, he did not grudge his praise. A' minister, in
high place, who is slow to recognize the good services of
his subordinates, may be a very clever man, but he is not
a great statesman. What this novitiate in Lord Wellesley's
office did for Charles Metcalfe, at the turning-point of his
career, it is almost impossible to estimate too highly. After
a year and a half of this good training, he was thoroughly

i8o3— i8o4.] LORD WELLESLBYS OFFICE, 553

fit for active service of any kind> and eager above all
things to prove his capacity for action. He had ceased to
think of the opportumities of Lord Grenville*s office.

During this residence in Calcutta^ Charles Metcalfe
became reverentially attached to Lord Wellesley 5 and the
Governor-General, upon his part, conceived an interest in
the young civilian which was never weakened by years.
By this time the Governor-General had begim to discern
that there was but little sympathy between him and the
masters whom he served. His cherished scheme of the
Calcutta College * soon excited opposition, which became
more vehement as the project developed itself) and soon
other acts, little appreciated in Leadenhall-street, increased
the bitterness of the feud. But there was at least one man
in the Court of Directors who recognized the great qualities
of Lord Wellesley, and was well inclined to support him.
This was Charles Metcalfe's father 3 a fact known to the
Governor-General, which tended to increase the favour
with which he regarded his young assistant. He knew that

• The suppression by the East India Company of the College of
Fort William, in Bengal, as designed by Lord Wellesley, was follow-
ed by the institution of Haileybury Collie, in Hertfordshire. The
majority of the Directors recognized the virtue of the preliminary
training, but thought that England was a better place for it than
India, and that it would be better for the young writers to go out to
India at a more advanced age. But meanwhile the feeling in Cal-
cutta against the opposition of the Court had grown very strong — ^how
strong may be gathered from a letter in the Appendix, addressed by
the Reverend David Brown to Mr Charles Grant They were
friends and close correspondents ; but Mr Brown, who had been
appointed Principal of Uie College, was in the matter an earnest
Wellesleyite.

554 S/I^ CHARLES METCALPB, [1804.

Metcalfe was eager to be up and doing j and so, in the
full assurance that there was the right stuff in the youth,
the Governor- General sent him to the g^reat centre of
action in the country between the Jumna and the Granges.

For the ' great game * had now commenced. General
Lake's army had taken the field 5 and in the spring oi
1804, Charles Metcalfe was appointed Political Assistant to
the Commander-in-Chief, and despatched to join the army
at head-quarters. On his way thither, travelling in a
palanquin, he was set upon by a party of armed robben,
who despoiled him of everything that was worth taking,
and well nigh deprived him of his Hfe. Abandoned by his
bearers, he made an effort single-handed to resist his assail-
ants J but, severely wounded and faint from loss of blood,
he was compelled to desist from the encounter. Then
staggering into the jungle, he laid himself down on the
bank of a river, whilst the thieves were collecting their spoil.
He has himself recorded how, as he lay there, he thought
of home and of his parents, and how at that very time they
might be at Abingdon races. But he recovered strength
enough to return to his palanquin to find the robbers de-
parted, and his bearers returned. So he ordered them to
proceed to Cawnpore.

There, under the careful and affectionate ministrations
of his aunt, Mrs Richardson, he soon recovered from his
wounds, and proceeded to join the camp of the Commander-
in-Chief. The General was a fine old soldier 5 but he had
his weaknesses, and among them an habitual contempt for
civilians 5 and, indeed, for much penmanship of any kind.
He had an emphatic formula by which he expressed to

x8os.] METCALFE AT DEEG. 555

those beneath him his desire that they should mind their
fighting and not their writing. The presence in his camp
of a boy-civilian, fresh from Grovemment House, rather
irritated him 5 and, perhaps, the members of his Staff
humoured the old soldier by sneering at the non-combatant
clerk, who shared the pleasant excitements but not the
dangers of the campaign. Yoimg Metcalfe got some
inkling of this, and quietly bided his time. An opportunity
soon came. The army was before the strong fortress of
Deeg. The storming party was told off, and the non-com*
batant clerk volunteered to accompany it. He was one of
the first to enter the breach. This excited the admiration
of the old General, who made most honourable mention of
him in his despatch 5 and, ever afterwards, throughout the
campaign, spoke of him as his ' little stormer.*

It was soon afler this that Colonel Malcolm joined the
camp of the Commander-in-Chief, and took yoimg Met-
calfe into his councils. The war was then nearly over, for
the treasury was well-nigh empty, and the Company were
on the verge of bankruptcy. There was, however, one
last blow to be struck. Holkar was still in an attitude of
hostility ; but when the British troops drove him, as before
narrated, across the Sutlej, and he was at last compelled to
accept the terms offered to him by our Grovemment, the
'little stormer' was sent to convey to the Mahratta chief
the assurances of our friendship and good will. He spoke
modestly of this mission, and said that his task was an
easy one ^ but it required both temper and tact, especially

556 SIR CHARLES MBTCALFB. [1805.

as the celebrated Pathan leader^ Ameer Khan^ was present
at the meetings and inclined to be insolent to the bojish
English diplomatist^ who had not by any means an im-
posing personal presence^ and whose counteDance could
scarcely by any effort be made to discard its habitual ex-
pression of cheerfulness and benignity. ' The conduct (rf
Holkar and his chiefe,* he wrote to a young fiiend in Cal-
cutta, ' was equally expressive of the highest delight, and
made my mission a very pleasing and happy business. My
task was easy, being in its nature only to convey assurances
of friendship. ... It was my duty to urge his immediate
departure from the Punjab on his return to Malwa. I got
from him a promise to move on the 13th, which he main-
tained to my surprise. His appearance is very grave, his
countenance expressive, his manners and conversation easy.
He had not at all the appearance of the savage we knew
him to be. The same countenance, however, which was
strongly expressive of joy when I saw him, would look
very black under the influence of rage, or any dark pas-
sions. A little lap-dog was on his musnud — a strange play-
fellow for Holkar. The jewels on his neck were invalu-
ably rich. . . . All his chiefs were present. Ameer Khan
is a blackguard in his looks, and affected, on the occasion
of my reception, to be particularly fierce, by rubbing his
coat over with gunpowder, and assuming in every way the
air of a common soldier. But for his proximity to Holkar
he would have passed for one. I consider his behaviour to
have been affectation. He had the impudence to ask from
roe my name, which must have been known to him \ and
his conduct was so evidently designed to bring himself into

1806—1807.] ASSISTANT A T DELHI, 557

notice, that I felt gratification in disappointing the un-
known impudent, and, answering plainly to his question,
I turned from him and continued a good-humoured con-
versation with Holkar and Bhao Buskur. I was better
pleased that I did so, when I learnt his name, for he had
on a late occasion behaved with egregious impertinence.
I have been very much gratified with the accidental mis-
sion, because, though of no importance, it is a little dis-
tinction. Lord Lake has made use of it to say more in my
favour than I ever deserved, in a despatch to the Governor-
General.*

On the restoration of peace, Mr Metcalfe was appointed
an Assistant to the Resident at Delhi, where the Mogul
Emperor, Shah Allum, old, blind, and infirm, still main-
tained the shadowy pageantry of a Court. The Resident
was Mr Seton, a civilian of the old school, whose chief
characteristic was an overflowing courtesy and politeness,
which sometimes wholly swept away all the barriers of
sound sense and discretion, and exposed him to not unmerited
derision. In any other man, the strong expressions of ad-
miration with which he spoke of young Metcalfe's genius,
might have been regarded as indications of discernment
and prescience. But on the lips of Seton the language of
flattery was habitual, and Metcalfe attached but little value
to the praise of a superior, who had been represented in a
caricature of the day as saluting Satan with a compliment,
and wishing 'long life and prosperity to ffis Majesty.*
This weakness had unfortunately fi-ee scope for exercise at
Delhi, where exaggerated respect was shown by Seton to
the Mogul. Metcalfe often remonstrated against this, and

558 S/jR CHARLES METCALFJR. [1807.

by his remonstrances greatly perplexed the Resident, who
could not show all the deference he wished both to his old
charge and his young friend. Metcalfe was soon sick of
the ungenial work, which was even less profitable than it
was pleasant. ^ I am with respect to health,' he wrote in
June, 1807, ^as well as usual, and that, I thank God, is
very well j in spirits, too, pretty well 5 and though the
place is very dull, and I myself am no great enlivener of
society, never fail to be merry on a favourable opportunity.
I am tired of business, and long to have less to do— the
nearest to nothing the better. . . . And now comes the
dreadful tale. My finances are quite ruined, exhausted be-
yond any reasonable hope of repair. You know that I am
very prudent j prudence is a prominent feature in my
character j yet, ever since I came to this Imperial station,
I have gradually been losing the ground which I had
gained in the world, and at length I find myself consider-
ably lower than the neutral situation of having nothing,
and without some unlooked-for and surprising declaration
of the fates in my favour, I see nothing but debt, debt,
debt, debt after debt before me.' But deliverance soon
came. Certain new duties were imposed upon him, and
his allowances were consequendy increased. As these
duties were of an administrative rather than a diplomatic
character, the arrangement did not much please him ; but
he found consolation in the means it afforded him of ex-
tricating himself from debt. He determined to convert
this addition to his salary into a sinking-fund for the
payment of his debts 5 and resolutely adhering to the
design, he paid off his debts to the last sixpence without

i8o8.] THE MISSION TO LAHORR. 559

any foreign aid^ and soon laid the foundation of a fortune.

He was now on the high road to promotion. Some at
least of the day-dreams of the Eton cloisters were about to
be realized. There was, or there was supposed to be, a
conjuncture which demanded the best services of all the
best men in the country. The apprehensions which sent
Malcolm to Persia, and Elphinstone to Caubul, suggested
the expediency of a mission to Lahore j and Metcalfe was
selected to conduct it. In these days, it is no greater feat
to go from Delhi to Lahore than to go from London to
Scarborough. But in 1808 the Punjab was almost a terra
incognita to us. We knew little or nothing of the * strange
sect of people called the Sikhs.' Some tidings had reached
us of the rising power of a chief named Runjit Singh, who
was rapidly consolidating by not the most scrupulous means
an empire on the banks of the Hyphasis and the Hydaspes.
In pursuance of the comprehensive scheme of defensive
policy, which the rumoured designs of the French and
Russian Emperors compelled us to initiate. Lord Minto
determined to secure the good offices of the ruler of the
Punjab, and to bind him to us by treaty-obligations. For
this work he selected Mr Metcalfe 5 and seldom or never
before had a mission of so much delicacy and difficulty
been intrusted to so yoimg a man.

Charles Metcalfe was only twenty-three years of age —
an age at which at the present day many civilians of the
new school first set their faces towards the East — ^when he
went forth on his embassy to the Court of Runjit Singh.
On the 1st of September, 1808, the mission crossed the
Sutlej. On the 12th, Runjit Singh, who had been ffitting

56o SIjR CHARLES MRTCALFJE, [x&A

about in a somewhat erratic fashion, as though he could
hardly make up his mind how to act, received the English
officers at Kussoor. It is not the custom in these cases to
go to business at once. The first visits of Oriental diplomacy
are visits of courtesy and congratulation. It is a kind of
diplomatic measuring of swords before the conflict com-
mences. 'The Rajah,' wrote Metcalfe, 'met us on the
outside of a large enclosure, and having embraced all the
gentlemen of the mission, conducted us within, -where tents
had been prepared for our reception. As a compHment to
us, the Rajah, from his own choice, used chairs at this
meeting, partly collected from our camp and partly firom
his own, upon which he and the principal Sirdars present,
and the gentlemen of the British mission, were seated.
This interview was prolonged by the Rajah beyond the
usual time of visits of ceremony j but nothing of conse-
quence passed at it. The Rajah did not enter much into
conversation, and made only two observations worthy of
remark. One was an expression of regret for the lamented
death of Lord Lake, of whom he observed that it would be
difficult to find his equal, for that he was as much distin-
guished by his gendeness, mildness, humanity, and affability
as by his greatness as a military character. The other
observation was in reply to one of his courtiers, who was
remarking that the British Government was celebrated for
good faith 5 upon which Runjit Singh said that he knew
well that the word of the British Grovernment included
everything.* Great words — and a great fact in those days.
On the 1 6th Runjit Singh returned the visit of the
young English diplomatist j and three days afterwards, at

i8o8.] THE PUNJAB MISSION. 561

another meeting, they proceeded to discuss the preliminaries
of business, and on the 22nd negotiations were formally
opened. In their general features, they very much resem-
bled those which Elphinstone, a few months later, con-
ducted at Peshawur. The English officer did all that he
could to persuade the Sikh ruler that the British Govern-
ment were eager to advance his interests, and that the pro-
posed alliance was more to his advantage than to their own ;
and the Sikh ruler regarded this display of disinterested-
ness with some suspicion, 'I opened the conference,*
wrote Metcalfe, ' by stating that the friendship which had
happily existed between the Rajah and the British Grovem-
ment had induced the Governor-General to depute me
to communicate some important intelligence, in which
the Maharajah*s interests were materially concerned. I
then mentioned that his Lordship had received authentic
advices that the French, who were endeavouring to establish
themselves in Persia, had formed the design of invading
these countries, and of seizing Caubul and the Punjab ; that
his Lordship's first care was to give warning to the States
which this intelligence concerned 5 that, feeling the inter-
ests of the British Government and those of the Rajah to be
the same, his Lordship had commissioned me to negotiate
with the Rajah arrangements for the extirpation of the
common enemy, and had appointed another gentleman to
be Envoy to Caubul for similar purposes with respect to
that country, who would in a short time, with the Rajah's
permission, pass through this coimtry, on his way to the
place of his destination. I added, that these measures had
been adopted by the Government in the purest spirit of
VOL. I. 36

563 SIR CHARLES MRTCALFB. [1808.

friendship, and that it was evident that the interests of all
the States in this quarter required that they should imite
their powers in defence of their dominioDs> and for the
destruction of the common enemy.'

When the young English Envoy had finished his state-
ment, the Rajah asked him how far the British Army would
advance to meet the French 5 and to this Metcalfe replied
that it was our practice to seek the enemy, and that * no
doubt the Grovernment would send an army beyond CaubuL'
' But what,* asked Runjit Singh, ' if the King of Caubul
should throw himself into the arms of the French ? * ' Why
then,* said Metcalfe, * we shall attack him as -well as the
French.* But he added that it was 'improbable that he
would be so blind to his own interests 5 for that the French
invariably subjected and oppressed those who joined them 3
plundered and laid waste their country, and overthrew the
Grovernment.' ' In the course of this conversation,' con-
tinued the youthful diplomatist, ' I endeavoured, in con-
formity to the instructions of the Supreme Government, to
alarm the Rajah for the safety of his territories, and at the
same time to give him confidence in our protection.* To
all of this the Rajah made fi-ank and fi*iendly answer j but
he said that it was altogether an important subject, that he
wanted time to talk it over with his ministers, and that
his sentiments would be expressed on the morrow.

So the Sikh statesmen took time to consider the pro-
posals of the British Grovernment, and the more they thought
over them, the greater the suspicion with which they re-
garded them. The big words which Metcalfe had spoken
about the dangers to which they were exposed began to

itoS.] THE PUNJAB MISSION. 563

shrivel into insignificance. They could not bring them-
selves to believe that this remote and conjectural danger
from the ambitious designs of the French was the real
cause of a British mission being sent to the Court of Runjit
Singh. And if it were so, it was not, after all, a matter
that much concerned the Sikhs themselves. Runjit himself
saw clearly that the English had their own objects to gain.
He had his objects, too 5 and he might turn the British
mission to good account. So he asked Metcalfe whether
the British Grovernment would recognize his sovereignty
over all the Sikh States on both sides of the Sutlej. If the
English wished to preserve their empire, he wished to con-
solidate his. But Metcalfe only replied that he had no
authority to express the views of his Grovernment on this
subject.

It would be a work of time to narrate all the details of
tlie protracted negotiations which then ensued. The Sikh
ruler was full of jealousy and suspicion 5 and, therefore, he
was very wary in his practice. He fenced and evaded with
the greatest skill 5 and was continually watching for oppor-
tunities, which the young English officer never allowed
him, of coming down upon him unawares, or striking him
at a disadvantage. The fact is, that he thought Metcalfe
had entered his country in the character of a spy, and that
the negotiation of a friendly alliance was intended only to
mask some ulterior proceedings of a hostile character. His
conduct was distinguished by an amoimt of inquietude and
restlessness, which every now and then verged upon dis-
courtesy, if not upon overt insolence to the British mission,
and it is not improbable that many a man in Metcalfe's

S64 SIR CHARLES METCALFJE. [1808.

place would have resented the strange bearing of the Sikh
chief, and have broken up his camp to return to the
British frontier. But, even at that early age, the beautiful
patience, which at a later time so perfected in him the tnie
heroic character, displayed itself to his own honour and to
his country's good. He had been sent to perform a certain
work, and he was resolute to do it in spite of all tempta-
tions to turn aside j and, therefore, he was slow to take
offence, feeling that he might attribute to the barbaric ig-
norance and to the rude impulses of one, who had never
known restraint, much which in an European Prince would
have been wholly unaccountable and not to be forgiven.
When in all courtesy and respect, Runjit ought to have
been pursuing to a close the negotiation with the repre-
sentative of the British Government, he was giving himself
up to strong drink and to the unseemly exhibitions of
dancing-girls, and giving no sort of heed to the important
business before him. There was method, perhaps, in mad-
ness of this kind. He was evidently anxious to gain time,
that he might see what would be written down in the great
chapter of accidents, and might be guided to that which
would best serve his individual interests.

So the year 1808 was fast wearing away, and Metcalfe
still remained at the Court of Runjit Singh — ^now in one
place, now in another. Rimjit was pursuing his schemes
of ambition, and meditated the conquest of the lesser Sikh
States on the English side of the Sutlej. But the Govern-
ment of Lord Minto had determined not to suffer the less
powerful chiefs to be sacrificed to Rimjit's ambition, and
were now making preparations for the advance of a military

i8o8— iSog.] THE PUNJAB MISSION, 565

force to the banks of the river. On the 22 nd of December
Metcalfe personally communicated these intentions to the
Rajah. He received the communication with apparent
self-control j but after putting a few questions relating to
the strength of the British force, and the position which it
was to take up — questions to which Metcalfe was unable to
reply — Runjit left the room, descended to the court-yard
below, mcimted a horse, and began caracolling about with
what the young English Envoy described as 'surprising
levity.' But it was not levity. He was striving to subdue his
strong feelings, and was gaining time to consider the answer
he was to give to the British Envoy. After a while he
returned to another room and took coimsel with his min-
isters, who, when they rejoined Metcalfe, told him that
the Rajah would consent to all the demands of the British
Government.

But these were mere words. With characteristic insta-
bility, Runjit wished to withdraw them almost as soon as
they were uttered. On the same evening he sent a mes-
sage to Metcalfe, saying that the proposal of the British
Government to send troops to the Siitlej was of so strange
a character, that he could not finally announce his determ-
ination till he had consulted with his chie&, and that he
purposed to proceed for that purpose to Umritsur, and he
requested the British Envoy to attend him. But Metcalfe,
though habitually of a placid demeanour, fired up at this,
and earnestly protested against it as an insult to his Govern^
ment. His resolute bearing had the desired effect. The
negotiations were continued j but it was obvious that Runjit
Singh was sorely irritated, and half doubtftd at times

S66 SIR CHARLES METCALFE, [1809.

whether he would try conclusions with the English, He
had long been anxious to assure himself with respect to the
real military strength of the British Government — ^most of
all, what were the qualities of the trained native soldiers
who constituted our Sepoy army. An unexpected incident
gave him a glimpse of the knowledge which he sought.
The negotiations had been protracted, without any positive
results, to the month of February, when one day Metcalfe's
escort of British Sepoys came into collision, at Umritsur,
with a party of Akalis, or Sikh fanatics — ^half soldiers and
half saints. There was a sharp conflict between them^
but, after a little while, the steady discipline of the little
band of trained soldiers prevailed, and the Sikhs broke and
fled. This appears to have made a great impression on
Runjit*s mind. He saw clearly that the English, who
could make such good soldiers of men not naturally war-
like, were a people not to be despised. There were ulterior
results of even more importance to history, but that which
immediately followed was the conclusion of the treaty, which
had been so long in course of negotiation. It was a treaty
of general friendship and alliance between the British and
the Sikh powers — a plain, straightforward, sensible treaty,
unencumbered with details j and it lasted out the lives both
of the Indian chief and the English statesman.

The manner in which Charles Metcalfe had conducted
these difficult negotiations placed him at once, notwith-
standing the fewness of his years, in the foremost rank of
the public servants of the Indian Grovemment.* From

* The thanks of the Government were conveyed to Mr Metcalfe
in the following words : ' During the course of your arduous ministrx

x8io.] RESIDENT AT GWALIOR, 567

that time his fortune was made. On Metcalfe's return to
India> Lord Minto invited him to Calcutta. The Governor-
General was at that time about to proceed to Madras^ in
consequence of the mutiny of the officers of the Madras
Army 5 and he was so much pleased with Metcalfe, that he
mvited him to accompany the Government party, as
Deputy-Secretary, to the Coast* After a brief sojourn at
Madras, Metcalfe went to Mysore to visit his old friend,
the Honourable Arthur Cole. In May, 1 810, he returned
to Calcutta, and was soon afterwards appointed Resident
at Scindiah*s Court, in succession to Mr Graeme Mercer.
As he did not like the appointment, it was fortimate that
he was not destined long to remain there. After he had
resided some ten months at Crwalior, to which the Court
had been recently removed from« Oujein, Lord Minto
offered him the Delhi Residency, in succession to Mr Seton,
who had been appointed Governor of Prince of Wales*s
Island. *I shall,' wrote the Governor-General to him,
' with (or without) your consent, name you to the Resi-
dency of Delhi. I know your martial genius and your

at the Court of Lahore, the Governor-General in Council has repeat-
edly had occasion to record his testimony to your zeal, ability, and
address in the execution of the duties committed to your charge. His
Lordship in Council, however, deems it an obligation at the close of
your mission, generally to declare the high sense which he entertains
of the distinguished merit of your services and exertions in a situation
of more than ordinary importance, difficulty, and responsibility, to
convey to you the assurance of his high approbation, and to signify to
you that the general tenour of your conduct in the arduous negotiations
in which you have been engaged has established a peculiar claim to
public applause, respect, and esteem.'

568 S/J^ CHARLES METCALFB. [181L

love of camps 3 but^ besides that inclination must yield to
duty, this change will appear to fall in, not inopportunely,
with some information and some sentiments conveyed to
me in your letter of the 3rd instant.* And then he added,
in a strain of kindly jocoseness, ' If you ask my reasons for
so extraordinary a choice, I can only say that, notwithstand-
ing your entire ignorance of everything connected with the
business of Delhi — a city which, I believe, you never saw 5
and with Cis- and Trans-Sutlej affairs, of which you can
only have read j and notwithstanding your equal deficiency
in all other more general qualifications, I cannot find a
better name in the list of Company's servants ; and hope,
therefore, for your indulgence on the occasion.' I have
read a great number of letters from Grovernors-Greneral,
offering high appointments to the officers of Government,
but never one so pleasant as this — never one that so clearly
indicated the personal affection of the writer for the man
to whom it was addressed.

So, at the age of twenty-six, Charles Metcalfe found
himself in possession of the high dignity and the large
emoluments of an office coveted by men of twice his age
and four times the length of his service. Yet he was by
no means elated by his good fortune. It is hard, perhaps,
to form a just estimate of the habitual feelings of a dweller
in India, so much is a man's cheerfulness affected by the
climate 5 so great are the vicissitudes from a state of high
animal spirits to one of feebleness and depression. The
biographer should always consider the date of a letter
written in India 5 but it will be no unfailing guide. The
truth is that, by men who have much official work to do.

i8ii— 13.] DELHI RESIDENT, 569

private letters to friends in England are commonly written
in a state of* weariness and exhaustion j and^ moreover^
there is always something saddening in this communion
with the old home 5 it suggests so many tender regrets and
painful yearnings after unattainable bliss. It was not strange,
therefore, that Charles Metcalfe should have written to
England, from the Delhi Residency, to discourage one of
his aunts from sending out her son to India. ^Do not
suppose,' he added, ' that I am imhappy or discontented.
I have long since reconciled myself to my fate, and am as
contented and happy as one far from his friends can be. I
do not allow unpleasant thoughts to enter my mind, and if
I do not enjoy what is beyond my reach — the inexpressible
pleasure of family society — ^I at least am always cheerful
and never unhappy. My father did what he thought best
for me ; and it is satisfectory to me to reflect that my career
in India, except as to fortune, must have answered his ex«
pectations. It has been successful beyond any merits that
I am aware of in myself.* As he says, in the next para-
graph, that he hopes to save 5^3000 a year from his salary,
I can hardly think that even Sir Thomas Metcalfe could
have been much disappointed that his son could not do
more finandially at the age of six-and-twenty.

As time advanced, his spirits did not rise. He was still
subject to fits of depression, if not to an habitual inward
gloom. He felt that he was a solitary man. ' I shall never
marry,* he said. ' My principal reason for thinking that I
positively shall never marry, is the difficulty of two disposi-
tions uniting so exactly as to produce that universal harmony
which is requisite to form the perfect happiness that is in-

570 Sllf CHARLES METCALFE. [1811— ZA

dispensable to make the married state desirable.* But his
affections were very warm. He had alread^t formed some
strong friendships in India, which lasted all his life 5 and
now at Delhi, though he had many acquaintances and he
was overrun with guests at the Residency (for his hospitality
was unstinting), he had no familiar and cherished com-
panions with whom to interchange the inmost feelings of
the heart. Some temporary alleviation came in the shape
of a visit from his younger brother, Thomas Metcalfe,* who
had come out to India in the Bengal Civil Service, and
whom, after leaving College, Lord Minto had sent up to
Delhi to act as an Assistant to the Resident. But he
appears after a while, if his correspondence is to be trusted,
to have subsided into his old melancholy ways. The fol-
lowing extracts from letters to his aunt, Mrs Monson, give
his own account of the state of his mind : ' I cannot say,*
he wrote in one letter, ' that I approve of the plan of send-
ing children out to India for all their lives. There is no
other service in which a man does not see his friends some-
times. Here it is perpetual banishment. There was a
good reason for sending sons to India when fortunes were
made rapidly, and they returned honie. But if a man is to
slave all his life, he had better do so, in my opinion, in his
own country, where he may enjoy the society of his friends,
which I call enjoying life. Do not suppose that I am dis-
contented and make myself imhappy. It is my fate, and
I am reconciled to it. ... But can anything be a recom-
pense to me in this world for not seeing my dear and

• Afterwards Sir Thomas Metcalfe, for some time Resident at
Delhi.

x8xx— i8i4.1 DELHI RESIDENT. S7i

honoured father^ from the days of my boyhood to the day
of his death — and, perhaps, the same with regard to my
mother ? I think not— decidedly not ! ' Again, in another
letter, he said : * I cannot describe to you how much I am
worked, and if I could, there would be no pleasure either
to you or me in the detail. I will^ therefore^ pass over that
for a while, and endeavour to forget my plagues. Tom
arrived here on the i8th. I am very much pleased with
him, and think him a superior young man. Here he and
I are together, and here we shall remain for many a long
year consoling each other as well as we can for the absence
of all other fHends. ... I shall see you, I hope, in eighteen
years ! * And again, a few months later : ' It is very kind
of you to wish me home, and I assure you that I wish my-
self at home most ardently. Nevertheless, as the sacrifices
which a man must make who comes to India have been
made for the most part already, I do not mean to return to
England to struggle with poverty, or to be forced to draw
tight my purse-strings. The sacrifice that I have made, I
consider great. The recompense that I propose to myself is to
have a competency— not merely for my own expenses, but
to enable me to assist others without reluctance or restraint.
... I am become very unsociable and morose, and feel
myself getting more so every day. I lead a vexatious and
joyless life 5 and it is only the hope of home at last that
keeps me alive and merry. That thought cheers me,
though writing to any of you always makes me sad.* It is
not very easy to believe that Charles Metcalfe was ever
' unsociable and morose.'

When Lord Minto returned to England he lefl Charies

572 SIR CHARLES METCALFE. [1814—17,

Metcalfe still at the Delhi Residency^ and Lord Hastings
found him there. There were stirring times then before
the Grovemment of India — the necessary after-growth of
the sudden winding-up of the great game of Lord Wellesley 's
time. Few men were better acquainted with the politics of
Upper India than the Delhi Resident^ and the statesmen by
whom Lord Hastings was surrounded were eager to obtain
an expression of his views. They were strongly in favour
of a ' settlement.' He knew that until vigorous measures
had been taken to crush the Pindarrees^ and to place upon
a more satisfactory footing our relations with the substan-
tive Mahratta States, there could only be a cry of * Peace,
Peace ! * where there was no peace. He drew up, there-
fore, some important State papers for the use of Lprd
Hastings, and, whether the Governor-General were or were
not moved by him, it is very certain that the course pursued
was in accordance with the views and reconunendations of
Charles Metcalfe.

And it is certain that such were the clearness and com-
prehensiveness of Metcalfe's views, and such the precision
with which he expressed them, that the Grovemor-Genend
saw plainly that it would be to his advantage to have such a
statesman at his elbow. But there was some active
diplomatic business yet to be done by the Delhi Resident.
In the great poHtical and military transactions which dis-
tinguished the administration of Lord Hastings, Metcalfe
played an important part. The task which was set him did
not in the sequel involve the rough work which fell to the
share of Elphinstone and Malcolm j but it demanded the
ex^cise of no little address. It was his to bring the great

i

t8i7— i8i9.] DEPARTURE FROM DELHI, 573.

Patan chief. Ameer Khan, to terms j * to induce him to
dbband his levies and restore the tracts of country which he
had taken from the Rajpoots. It was his also to bring all
the great Rajpoot chiefs into friendly alliance with us 5 and
though the conduct of one or two of them was of a slip-
pery and evasive character, they were all finally persuaded
that it was really to their interest that they should be
brought imder British protection. This done, and the war
concluded, Charles Metcalfe accepted the offer of a place in
the Executive Government, which had been made to him
by Lord Hastings, and prepared, in the cold weather of
18 1 8-19, to assume the office of Political Secretary, in suc-
cession to Mr John Adam, who had been elevated to a seat
in Council.

He turned his back upon Delhi with a sigh. He left
behind him many dear friends. He loved the work that
had been intrusted to him, because there was great scope
for beneficent action, and he felt that he had not exerted
himself in vain. In after years he looked back with par-
donable pride at the results of his administration. ' Capital
punishment,* he said, ' was almost wholly abstained from,
and without any bad effect. Corporal punishment was
discouraged, and finally abolished. Swords and other
implements of intestine warfare, to which the people were
prone, were turned into ploughshares, not figuratively alone,
but literally also 5 villagers being made to give up their
arms, which were returned to them in the shape of imple-

• This was the chief on whose pretentious, insolent manner to-
wards Metcalfe, on the occasion of his visit to Holkai's camp in
1805, the young civilian commented in a letter quoted at page 98.

574 'S/JP CHARLES METCALFE. [18x9.

ments of agriculture. Suttees were prohibited. The
rights of Grovernment were better maintained than in
other provinces, by not being subjected to the irreversible
decisions of its judicial servants^ with no certain laws for
their guidance and control. The rights of the people
were better preserved^ by the maintenance of the village
constitutions^ and by avoiding those pernicious sales of lands
for arrears of revenue, which in other provinces have tended
so much to destroy the hereditary rights of the mass of the
agricultural community.*

The Political Secretaryship of the Indian Government
is a high and important office ; one that had been, and has
since been, held by men second to none in the public serv-
ice. Barlow, Edmonstone, and John Adam had been
Metcalfe*s predecessors, and had each in turn passed on
from the Secretaryship to a seat in the Supreme Council.
But those who knew Metcalfe best, doubted whether the
place would suit him 5 and he soon came to doubt it him-
self. Among others. Sir John Malcolm wrote to him,
saying : ' Had I been near you, the King of Delhi should
have been dissuaded from becoming an executive officer,
and resigning power to jostle for influence. But you acted
with high motives, and should not be dissatisfied with
yourself.* But Metcalfe was dissatisfied with himself. He
had no reason to complain of anything in his intercourse
with Lord Hastings, who was always thoroughly a gentle-
man, with unfailing kindliness of heart and courtesy of
manner. Their ministerial relations were of the most
friendly, and to Metcalfe of the most flattering, kind ; for

18x9.] POLITICAL SECRETARY. 575

if the Governor-General did not always adopt the suggest*
ions, or if he sometimes altered the work of his Secretary,
he explained his reasons, with such urbane consideration
for the feelings of his subordinate, that the most sensitive
mind could not be hurt. Officially he was not tried, as
some men are tried, sorely j and socially his position was
all that could be desired. He had many dear friends in
Calcutta. He renewed his pleasant intimacy with some
old companions of his youth, and he formed some new
connections, which were a solace to him to the end of his
days. But still he did not like this ministerial employment.
He had been King so long that it was irksome to him to
be dwarfed into a Wuzeer.

So he longed to escape from Calcutta, from the
Council-Chamber, and from the elbow of the Governor-
General 3 and he looked wbtfully into the Future. ' I re-
cognize in all your letters,* said Sir John Malcolm, 'the
unaltered Charles Metcalfe with whom I used to pace the
tent at Muttra and build casties 3 our expenditure on which
was subject neither to the laws of estimate nor the rules of
audit.* And now, though at a distance from each other,
they began casde-building again. Malcolm was meditating
a return to England, and he was eager to make over the
administration of Central India to his friend. Another high
civil officer, who had the charge of a contiguous tract of
country, was also about to retire from his post 5 and it was
considered whether those two great administrative fields
might not be conjoined and placed together in Metcalfe's
hands. ' The union of Malcolm's charge and Maijoribanks*,*

57^ 5/i? CHARLES METCALFE, Li3i9— i8ao.

he wrote in a rough pencil note on the face of a letter from
Mr Adam^ ' would be grand indeed^ and make me King of
the East and the West.'

So, full of this thought, Charles Metcalfe sat down and
wrote a long letter to Lord Hastings, in which, after describe
ing the arrangement which might be made, on the resignation
by Malcolm and Marjoribanks of their several charges, he
said : ' When I reflect on the respectability, emoluments,
luxury, comforts, and presumed prospects of vay present
situation, on the honour of holding a place so near your
Lordship's person, combined with the enjoyment of continual
intercourse with your Lordship, and on the happiness confer-
red by your invariable kindness, I cannot satisfy mjrself that
I act wisely in seeking to be deprived of so many advantages
in order to undertake arduous duties of fearful responsibility.
It is very possible, I think, that if your Lordship should
indulge my wishes, I may hereafter repent of them j but at
present I am under the influence of the following considera-
tions. After a sufficient experience, I feel that the duties
of the Secretary's Office are not so congenial to me as those
which I have heretofore performed. I see reasons to doubt
my qualifications for this line of service. I think that many
persons might be foimd who would fill the oflice more
efficiently; and I fancy that I could serve your Lordship
better in a situation, such as I have described, nearly resem-
bhng that which I formerly held.* The project was favoura-
bly received by the Governor-General, and Metcalfe became
so sanguine that ere long it would receive definitive approval,
that he wrote to his friend Mr Jenkins, saying that Lord
Hastings designed that it should take effect, and inquiring

iSao.] PROJECTS AND PLANS,

S77

' the best way of getting speedily to Mhow in November
or December/

But this ' Kingship of the East and the West ' was not
in store for him. A few weeks passed away, and ^ new
field of labour began to expand itself before him. 'I have
given up/ he again wrote to Mr Jenkins, 'the idea of
succeeding Malcolm and erecting my standard on the Ner-
budda, in order to go to another field, not so extensive,
more compact, and more comfortable, and ofiering a prospect
of greater leisure. It is a bad sign, I fear, that fer these
reasons I think it preferable. I look upon it as a sort of
retirement for the rest of my service in India. I have seen
enough of the Secretar3rship to know that the respectability
and satisfaction of those stations depend upon circumstances
beyond one*s control j and though under some circum-
stances I should prefer my present situation to any other,
I shall quit it without any desire of returning to it, and
without much wish of ever having a seat in Council —
were it not for the name of the thing, I should say without
any wish. This state of feeling I have gained by coming
to Calcutta 5 and.it is fortunate that it is so, for I ha.ve no
chance whatever of a seat in Council at any time.*

There was in all this a great deal of erroneous forecast 3
not the least error of all that he was going to a comfortable
appointment. The situation before him was that of Resident
at Hyderabad, in the Deccan. It was a first-class Political
Office, equal in rank and emolument to that which he had
quitted in Hindostan. The present incumbent, Mr Henry
Russell,* was one of the ablest officers in the service. He

* Afterwards Sir Henry RusselL Metcalfe's elder brother had

married Mr Russell's cousin.

VOL. I. 37

578 S/H CHARLES METCALBE. [ifiao-

was a friend connected too by marriage with Metcalfe, and
had been for some time endeavouring to persuade the Poli-
tical Secretary to succeed him. ' I always thought,' wrote
Mr Russell, ' that you would regret the change from Delhi
to Calcutta. It can hardly be long before you are placed
in Council; but if this should not be the case, and yon
shovdd continue desirous of returning to your own line, I
should be delighted to c^eliver this Residency into your hands.
You will find an excellent house, completely furnished j a
beautiful country, one of the finest climates in India ; and
when the business which now presses has been disposed of,
abundance of leisure to follow your personal pursuits.' In
another letter the same writer said 3 ' In point of magnitude
your situation in Malwah wiU certainly be superior to this
Residency ; but you may do as much real good, and acquire
as much real importance here, as you could there. The
office now proposed will be great, by adding many things
together 3 at Hyderabad it will be compact and considerable
in itself, and will afford, for several years to come, an ample
field for the exertions of a man of talent and benevolence.
As to personal convenience, there can be ng comparison. In
Malwah you will have no time to yourself, and you will
either be wandering about the country, which is always
irksome when it is perpetual, or you will have to build and
furnish a house, at the expense certainly of not less than a
lakh of rupees, out of your private fortune. At Hyderabad,
after the first six months, when you have looked thoroughly
into everything, you will find, compared with what you
have been accustomed to, litde to give you trouble j at least
half of your time will be at your disposal, and you will step

x820.j RESIDENT AT HYDERABAD. 579

at once, without care and expense, into a house completely
furnifhed, and provided with every accommodation.* These
many-sided arguments prevailed. . Looking on this picture
and on that, Metcalfe began to incline towards the Hyderabad
Residency. When Mr Russell resigned, the appointment
was offered to him 3 and he accepted it without much
hesitation.

He parted from Lord Hastings on the best possible
terms. The Grovernor-General wrote him a letter, express-
ive both of public and private friendship. ' And now,
my dear sir, for yourself,* he said, after dwelling on poli-
tical business, 'let me assure you that I have been duly
sensible of your kind and cordial attachment, and that it is
with earnest prayers for your welfare that I wish you all
possible prosperity and comfort. We shall not meet again
in India, and the chances for it in Europe must, considering
my age, be small 3 but I shall rejoice in hearing from you,
and you will believe that I remain yours, faithfully,
Hastings.*

Towards the end of the year 1820, accompanied by a
few young friends who had been appointed his assistants,
Charles Metcalfe set out for Hyderabad. His correspondency
with his predecessor had supplied him with good substantial
information relating to the state of the country. But he
found, upon the spot, that the disorders of which he had
heard were more deeply seated than he had imagined. The
Nizam had borrowed from an extensive banking-house at
Hyderabad large sums of money at. high interest, for the
payment of his troops and other current expenses of his
Government. The result was that his ministers were com-

58o SIR CHARLES MBTCALPS. [iftiL

peiled to resort to many acts of oppression and injustloe to
wring money firom the people to keep the machineiy of the
State from altogether suspending its action. It was plain
that the inteiference of the British Govemment had long
been imperatively demanded. Something had already been
done J but something also remained to be done. 'The
more I see of the Nizam*s country,' wrote Metcalfe, after
some six months* experience, ' the more I am convinced
that, without our interposition, it must have gone to utter
ruin^ and that the measures which have been adopted were
indispensably necessary for its continued existence as an
inhabited territory. As it is, the deterioration has bera
excessive ; and the richest and most easily cultivated soil in
the world has been nearly depopulated, chiefly fay the
oppressions of Govemment. It will require tender nursing.
The settlements are advancing. The moderate revenue,
which it has been found necessary to receive in many
instances, has greatly disappointed the Grovemment, which,
not convinced by the depopulation of villages in consequence
of ruinous extortion, would have persisted in the same
unprincipled course until the rest were depopulated also.
The loss of revenue, if confidence be established by the
settlement, will be but temporary. In some of the setde-
ments, on which the assessments for the first year are the
lowest, they are doubled and trebled, and in some instances
quadrupled and quintupled, in the period — generally five
years — ^for which the settlements are concluded. Such are
the productive powers of the soil, that I have no doubt of
the propriety of the increase where it occurs to that extent,
the assessments for the first year having been made uncom-

i82X.] ' RESIDENT AT HYDERABAD, 581

monly low from local circumstances affecting the particular
cases. After the conclusion of the settlement, one measure
more, and I think only one, will be necessary, and to that
I conceive our interference ought to be limited. We must
preserve a check on the native officefs of the Grovernment,
to provide that they do not violate the settlement, otherwise
they certainly will ; in which case it would be better that
it had never been concluded, as it would then, by giving
false confidence, furnish the means of additional extortion,
and would effectually destroy the very foundation of our
probable success, which is the reliance put on our faith and
guarantee. I therefore propose, with the assent of the
Nizam's Government, to employ the assistants of the Resid-
ency and some of the best qualified of the Nizam*s officers
tn different divisions of the Nizam's territory, for the pur-
poses of checking of^ression and violation of faith on the
part of the officers of Government, securing adherence to
settlements, taking cognizance of crimes, and looking after
the police, especially on the fi-ontiers, on which point I
receive continual complaints from the neighbouring Go-
vernments. These officers should take no part in the col-
lection of the revenues, nor in the general administration of
the country 5 neither should the farms of the Nizam's Gro-
vernment be invaded. The officers should not have any pe-
culiar official designation, founded on their duties, lest it
should be considered as a partial introduction of our rule ;
and if at any time, from good schooling or rare goodness,
there should be reasonable ground of hope that a district could
be managed safely without such a check, I should think it a
duty to withdraw the officer from that district, though I have

582 5/i? CHARLES METCALFE. [iSsl

no expectation, I confess, that such is likely to be the case.
In order to save expense to the Nizam's Government, the
number of divisions should be small — six or seven in all.
This would make each of them very extensive, but not, I
hope, too much so for the performance of the duty. They
ought to be continually in motion (the officers, I mean),
and the Resident ought to be frequently in motion also, to
observe the state of the several divisions. I hope that this
measure will be approved, for on it all my hopes of successful
reform in the Nizam's country are built. Without it they
will fall to the ground. It appears to me to be the only
way of preserving *the Nizam's Government in all its parts
entire, with the addition of the check of European integrity,
which can at any time be removed without damaging any l

other part of the edifice, if at any time it can be dispensed I
with. If the Nizam's officers were allowed to go on with-
out some such check, it would soon end, I think, in our
being compelled to take the country entirely into our own
hands.*

But all the nursing in the world could do nothing, so
long as there remained the great cancer of the debt to eat
into the very life of the State. The English money-lenders
had got fast hold of the Nizam and his minister. They
were friends of the Resident and friends of the Cxovernor-
General 3 but the former determined to rescue the countiy
from their grasp. He knew that it could not be done
witnout sore travail ; he knew that he would lose many
triends and make many enemies 5 and that the cordial
•support of the Government was litde fikely to be obtained.
Sir John Malcolm had written to him, saying: 'Every

i82i.] THE HYDERABAD LOANS, 583

Step that you take to ameliorate the condition of the
country will be Qiisrepresented by fellows who have objects
as incompatible with public virtue and good government as
darkness is with light. . .. . You have to fight the good
fight, and to stand with the resolute but calm feelings such
a cause must inspire against all species of attacks that artful
and sordid men can make, or that weak and prejudiced
men can support. ... I am quite confident in your ulti-
mate triumph, though I expect that you will have great
vexation and annoyance.'

And truly he had 5 but much as it cost him, he was re-
solute to go through it to the end. It- was the sorest task
that he ever set himself, for he was a man of warm aiFec-
tions, and it cut him to the heart to array himself against
the personal interests of his friends. But he felt that, in
the emergency that had then arisen, the very life of the
Hyderabad State hung upon his independent action. He
was determined to inquire, where inquiry must of necessity
have been exposure, and to cut off the stream from which
so muph had been poured into the coffers of his friends.
It is a long story. The great banking-house of William
Palmer and Company suffered greatly by Metcalfe's sturdy
uncompromising conduct j and for a while he fell under
the displeasure of the Governor- General. But Lord
Hastings had too many good qualities of head and heart
not at last to do justice to a public servant who had striven
only for the public good.

The history of these transactions Is recorded in many
'blio volumes. Never, perhaps, was a greater flood of
controversy let loose to bewilder the judgments of men

584 S/H CHARLES METCALFE. [i8ai.

never did partisanship stream forth in more heady currents
than xy'hen the subject of the Hyderabad Loans was dis-
cussed in public papers^ in private pamphlets, and on the
proprietary platform of the East India Company. This is
not the pleasantest part of the story oi Metcalfe's life j but
there is nothing in the whole of it more illustrative of the
sturdy independence and honesty of his character. His
private correspondence with Lord ELastings has been pub -
lisheti. It cannot be given hefre in detail 5 but in the fol-
lowing passage of a letter to the Governor-General, there is
so much that bears undoubted vntness to the fact that it
was a sore trial and travail to the Hyderabad Resident to
undermine and to fire the train that was to explode the pros-
perity of so many of his friends. He was accused of hos-
tility to the house of William Palmer and Cbmpany. To
this he replied : ' I am at a loss what to say to this, for I
know not whence such an idea can have arisen. £xc^ting
Mr W. Palmer, the European partners of that firm were
my friends before I came to Hyderabad. Mr W. Palmer's
brother, Mr John Palmer, has been my much-esteemed
and warm friend for the last twenty years 5 and Mr William
Palmer himself is one of those men so amiably constituted
by nature, that it is impossible to know ever so little of him
without feeling one's regard and esteem attracted. There •
is no family at Hyderabad with which I have so much
intercourse as Sir William Rumbold's. Mr Lambe, one of
the partners, accompanied me in his medical capacity as
acting-surgeon of the Residency during my tour firom
Hyderabad to this place, and in every respect on the most
intimate and confidential footing. Since I came to this

x82x.] CORRESPONDENCE WITH LORD HASTINGS. 585

place I have accepted^ without hesitation^ as a personal
favour from Mr Hastings Palmer^ the head of the branch
established at this place, the loan of a house which I
occupied till I could otherwise accommodate m3rself. I
may add, that I have lately given my assent to extraordinary
exactions, proposed by the Mhiister, for the purpose of
meeting the demands of that firm on the Government,
which the Minister would not attempt without my con-
currence* All these circumstances, I venture to say,
would naturally indicate to the public mind feelings the
very reverse of hostile 5 and I am so unconscious of any
appearances that could have justified, in ShJx)f& or any
others, an inference of adverse sentiment, that, notwith-
standing the apparent presumption of disputing the accuracy
of Sir William Rumbold's apprehension on a point on
which he ought to be so well informed, I am much inclined
to doubt the existence of such an impression 5 to ascribe
whatever losses the house may have sustained to other
causes, and ta attribute Sir William Rumbold^s persuasion
on the subject to artful misrepresentations industriously
conveyed to him, for purposes distinct fi-om the concern^
or interest of the firm. I could conscientiously deny the
existence, on my part, of a shadow of ill will 5 but I might
deceive your Lordship were I to stop here. I cannot help
entertaining sentiments regarding the transactions of that
firm, which, as being adverse to their own views of thdr
interests, they might possibly charge to the account of ill
will. Those sentiments have been slow in growth, but
strengthen as I see more of the state of affairs in this
country. I lament that Messrs W. Palmer and Company

586 S/H CHARLES METCALFE. [iSaa.

have grasped at such large profits in their negotiadons witii
the Nizam's Government as place his interest and theirs in
direct opposition. I lament that they have gucceeded in
conveying to your Lordship's mind an exaggerated impres-
sion of services to the Nizam's Grovemment, which obtains
for them on public g^unds your Lordship's support, in a
degree to which they do not seem to others to be entitled
. — support which for any ordinary mercantile transactions
wovdd be wholly unnecessary. I lament that they are so
sensible or fancifiil of their weakness on every other ground
as to be drawing on your Lordship's personal favour on
every occasion in which they apprehend the most distant
approach of danger, extending their sensitiveness to the
smallest diminution, fi-om whatever cause, of their immedi-
ate profits — thus repeatedly forcing on the public the name
of your Lordship as the patron of their transactions, whilst
these are likened by the world in general to former pecuniaiy
dealings in Oude and the Carnatic. I lament the connection
between them and Rajah Chundoo-Lall, because it t&ds to
draw them quite out of their sphere of merchants, and
make them political partisans. It is scarcely possible that
this can ultimately be beneficial to them. I lament their
connection with some of the most profligate and rapacious
of the governors of districts, through whom their character,
and, what is of more consequence, the British name, has
become involved in detestable acts of oppression, extortion,
and atrocity. I lament the power which they exercise in
the country, through their influence with the Minister;
enforcing payment of debts, due to them either originally
or by transfer, in an authoritative manner not becoming

1832.] EXPEDITION TO THE PERSIAN GULF, 587

their mercantile character ^ acting with the double force of
the Nizam's Grovernment and the British name. I lament
thd continuance of their loan to the Nizam's Government,
because it would be a great relief to its finances tft discharge
it. I lament the terms of the loan, because I think them
exorbitant. I lament the concealment of the actual terms
of the loan at the time of the transaction, and the delusive
prospect held out, by which your Lordship was led to con-
ceive it to be so much more advantageous to the Nizam's
Government than it really was. I lament the monopoly
established in their favour by the sanction and virtual
guarantee of the British Government, because it deprives
the Nizam's Government of the power of going into the
European money-market, where, with the same sanction, it
might borrow money at less than half the rate of interest
which it pays to Messrs Palmer and Company. I lament
the political influence acquired by the house through the
supposed countenance of your Lordship to Sir William
Rumbold, because it tends to the- perversion of political
influence for the purposes of private gain. All these things
I lament, not only because they are in themselves evils, but
because they must in the end injure the firm itself. Indi-
viduals of it may snatch a hasty and splendid harvest, if they
do not care for aught else j but the firm itself cannot con-
tinue to flourish on such a pinnacle, where it becomes an
object for all the shafts of envy, hostihty, and unjust opposi-
tion, as well as just objection.*

Nothing more manly or more dignified, but within the
limits of becoming respect to an ofiicial superior, was ever
wntten. It was not lost upon the Grovernor-General, al-

588 S/Jf CHARLES METCALJFE. [1822.

•

though it was long before he replied, and then only in a
meagre letter. That fidelity which was the strength of Lord
Hastings's character was also its weakness.* He was very
^thfiil toliis friends ; and if he sometimes erred in suffering
the man to prevail over the ruler, and supported not wisei)
but too well those whom he loved and cherished, it was be-
cause he lacked the sterner stuff which should have prompted
him to restrain the kindliness of his nature and the warmth
of his heart, when they were Hkely to carry him into erratic
courses. He was wounded to the quick by Metcalfe's con-
duct, which he seemed at first not wholly to underatand 5
but afterwards some new light began to dawn upon him
and he saw that this matter of the connection of the Hydera-
bad State with die mercantUe house was something far
worse than he had suspected. One result of Metcalfe's
investigations had been that he had satisfied himself that
some of the former members of the British Mission, hefote
his time, had been associated with Messrs William Palmer
and Company, in a sort of constructive partnership, which
gave them a direct interest in the financial profits of the
house. Metcalfe was slow to believe this; but when the
conviction came upon him, as it did at last, with irresistible
force, he was greatiy disturbed in his mind j and he did not
doubt that it was his duty to repres^it the circumstance to

♦ In the popular literature of toy boyhood, the * Percy Anec-
dotes,* 'which appeared fix^m time to time in little pocket volumes,
held a distinguished place. The collection was subjectivdy arranged,
and each volume contained a portrait of the individual man or woman
supposed to be the brightest exemplar, of the particular quality illus-
trated. I remember that a likeness of Lord Hastings was the frontis-
piece of the volume devoted to Fiddity.

x8aa.] RECONCILIATION WITH LORD HASTINGS. 58^

the Governor-General. In this difficulty he placed himself
in confidential communication with two of his fiiends and
brother civilians in Calcutta. The one was Mr John Adam,
then a member of the Supreme Council j and the other
was Mr Greorge Swinton, who had succeeded Metcalfe in
the office of Political Secretary. Both were able and honest
men — distinguished members of that new class of Civil
Servants, who had by this time nearly displaced altogether
the generation by whom private trade and public service
were not regarded as incompatible. It was then determined
that Mr Adam should, in the first instance, avail himself of
a convenient opportunity to make a private statement on
this painful subject to the Govemor-Greneral ; and he did
so. Lord Hastings received it, as any honourable man
would receive such a revelation ; and though, if he felt
strongly on the subject, he veiled his emotions at the time, it
appears to be certain that the scales then fell from his eyes,
and he began from that time to consider, in another light,
the conduct of the Hyderabad Resident, and to ^1 more
kindly towards him. The result was a reconciliation.
Metcalfe was touched by the altered tone of the Governor-
General, as reported to him by Adam and Swinton. He
was the least aggressive man in the world. He yearned: to
be in friendly relations with the whole human family. His
own particular weakness was a propensity to serve his
friends. He was very sorry for the pain that he had given
to others, although he knew that he had only done his duty.
So he grasped eagerly at the opportunity of reconciliation
unexpectedly afforded to him by the manner in which Lord
Hastings had received his last disclosure of comiptfon at

593 S/I^ Off AISLES METCALPE. [i8^

Hyderabad. So he sat down and wrote a letter to the
Governor-General — not penitential^ not submissive j but
frank^ and sorrowful in its frankness^ which drew^ forth fit-
ting response, and the breach between them was closed.

Throughout all this long and most painful controversy,
Metcalfe had been much sustained and solaced by pleasant
intercourse with the beloved friends who had accompam'ed
him to Hyderabad, and were assisting him in the duties of
the Residency.* And when this trouble was at an end he
was quite content. He was of a very trusting and afiec-
tionate nature, and he infused into his friendships a tender-
ness and devotedness, if not ' passing the love of woman,'
scarcely surpassed by it.t He was so happy, indeed, in
these relations, that he was alarmed and disturbed by a ru-
mour that he was likely soon to attain to that great object
of general ambition, a seat in the Supreme Coimcil. 'Though

♦ This unfortunate business not only sorely distressed his mind,
but also affected his health. He had a very severe illness in 1823,
and was compelled to go to Calcutta for surgical and medical advice.
Lord Hastings had then left India, and had been succeeded in the
Government by Lord Amherst After a sojourn of a few months at
the Presidency he returned to Hyderabad, greatly benefited by the
prof^ional skill of Nicolson and Martin.

+ * How the heart,' he wrote to one of his friends at this time,
* rejoices and bounds at the thought of the handwriting of a beloved
friend I And how it overflows with delight, how it warms, expands,
and boils over, in reading the affectionate language whicH one knows
to have been poured forth from a congenial heart. There are joys of
this kind in the pure love which exists between man and man, which
cannot, I think, be surpassed in that more alloyed attachment between
the opposite sexes, to which the name of.love is generally exclusively
applied.'

1824.] PRIVATE LIFE, 591

I do not pretend to be insensible to the honour of a seat in
Council,' he wrote to a friend, ia October, 1824, ' and the
possible result of such an appointment, I should rejoice at
the nomination of some other person, to put out of credit
those rumours which I am told are on the increase in Cal-
cutta regarding my elevation to that dignity, and of which
the realization would remove me from the present home of
my affections and the ties formed in this sphere. I cannot
think on this subject without pain, knowing as I do by ex-
perience that separation and removal to distant scenes,
though they may leave unimpaired good will, regard, esteem,
friendship, confidence, and even affection, are still fatal to
that warmth of feeling, that intimacy of ideas, that delight
of close and continual intercourse, which constitute what I
call the luxuries of friendship.* But, although in no man
were individual partialities stronger than in Charles Metcalfe,
there was another side to his overflowing kindliness of heart.
He was the most hospitable of men, at a time when hospi-
tality was one of the most prominent virtues of the English
in the East. He kept open house at the Residency — often
to his inconvenience and disturbance. He lamented, in-
deed, that he had not a residence a little way in the country,
to which he could sometimes withdraw himself, with a few
chosen friends.* But he looked upon hospitality as one of

♦ He wrote to a friend in December, 1824, sa3ring :•* I feel the
want of a country-house incessantly. As long as I live at the Resi-
dency it will be a public-house, and as long as the billiard-table
stands the Residency will be a tavern. I wish that I could introduce
a nest of white ants secretly, without any one's kenning thereof, if the
said ants would devour the said table, and cause it to disappear.

59a SIR CHARLES METCALFE. \vsa^

Uie duties of his high office ; and it gave him infinite plea-
sure to think that he was contributing to the happiness of
others. .

But that which contributed most of all to his inward
peace of mind^ and to the outward cheerfulness which was
its visible expression^ was an habitual sense of the goodness
of God, and an incessant feeling of gratitude to the Almighty
g^ver. He was continually rejoicing in the Lord and lifting
up his heart in praise and thanksgiving. ' If I am really
the happy man you suppose me to be,' he wrote to one of
his most intimate friends at this time, ' I will tell you, as
far as I know myself, the secret of my happiness. You will
perhaps smile, for I am not sure that your mind has taken
the turn that might induce you to sympathize. But be
assured that I am in earnest. I live in a state of fervent
and incessant gratitude to God for the ^vours and mercies
which I have experienced throughout my life. The feeling
is so strong that it often overflows in tears, and is so rooted
that I do not think that any misfortune could shake it. It
leads to constant devotion and firm content; and,; though
I am not free from those vexations and disturbances to
which the weak temper of man is subject, I am gu£M:ded
by that feeling against any lasting depression.* There are
few who will not contrast such psychological manifestations
as these with the gloomy and despairing revelations of the
inmost soul of Henry Martyn. Except in a common devo-
tion to duty, each according to his own light, no two men

But I do not like, either in deed or word, to make any attack on
an instrument of amusement which is so much relished by some of
us, who do not observe the consequences to which it leads.'

1824.J SIR DA VID OCHTERLONY. 593

were ever more unlike each other than the chaplain and
the civilian who meet together in this little gallery of por-
traits. The one delighted to suffer and to grieve 5 the other
rejoiced in the Lord always^ and was glad.

From the tranquil pleasures of the last year at the Hy-
derabad Residency, the turmoil and excitement over, Met-
calfe was aroused by a summons to repair to a different part
of the country, and to take upon himself the burden and the
responsibility of more exciting business. The British Gro-
vemment in India were now again at war with their neigh-
bours. The Burmese campaign was then in full progress 5
and in another part of the country preparations were being
made for an offensive movement, on a grand scale, against
the great Jdt fortress of Bhurtpore, which, twenty years
before, had successfully defied the British Army under Lord
Lake. Lord Amherst was Grovemor-General j Lord Com-
bermere was Commander-in-Chief. The political control
of the expedition fell naturally under the Delhi Resident-
ship. In that important diplomatic office. Sir David Och-
terlony had succeeded Mr Charles Metcalfe at Delhi. Not-
withstanding the difference of their ages, they had been
fast friends for many years. The veteran soldier looked
upon the rising civilian as a beloved son in whose prosperity
he rejoiced, and of whose reputation he was proud. Met-
calfe, upon his part, not unmindful of the old man's weak-
nesses, regarded him with tender affection, and admired his
many noble qualities. In the emergency which had arisen,
Ochterlony, without instructions from Grovemment, had
acted with a promptitude which they called precipitancy j

they had repudiated his authority, and had arrested the for-
voi- I. 38

594 SIR CHARLES METCALFB. [zSas*

ward movement which he had made to overawe the enemy,
with insufficient means at his disposal. The brave old man
had thought to accomplish by a sudden blow what in the
opinion of the highest authorities demanded the utmost
deliberation and all the resources of scientific war^e. This
indiscretion was his ruin. It was determined that he was
not the man for the crisis; and Metcalfe, therefore, was
requested to proceed to Delhi and to take his place. ' Much
as your services,* wrote Lord Amherst to him, ' are still de-
manded at Hyderabad, a nobler field opens for them in the
scene of your former residence and employment, and I flat-
ter myself that, imless there should be some impediment of
which I am not aware to your proceeding to Delhi, you
will readily afford your services in a quarter where they are
now most urgently required, and where, I hesitate not to
say, you can of all men in India most benefit your Grovem-
ment and your coimtry.* And, on the same day, his friend.
Secretary Swinton, wrote to him, saying : * To prevent any
misconception on your part, I am directed to state to you
distinctly that the question of Sir David Ochterlony*s retire-
ment does not depend on your accepting or declining the
proposal now made to you. If Government should be dis-
appointed in its wish to avail itself of your services as liis
successor, it must then look to the next best man.' Metcalfe
felt, and was afterwards fully assured, that if anything could
reconcile Ochterlony to his removal from office, it would
be the fact that Charles Metcalfe was to be his successor.*
So Metcalfe accepted the offer that was made to him 5

* Ochterlony did not live to see his successor installed. He died,
broken-hearted, before Metcalfe reached Delhi.

X82S.J DEPARTURE FROM HYDERABAD, 595

but he did so with a heavy heart. ' I am out of spirits,' he
wrote to one of his chosen friends, ' at the change in my
prospects. I looked forward to the assemblage of all I love
and a happy time during the rains — our labours in the coun-
try to be afterwards resumed. I cannot say that I shall be
here for a month, as I must be prepared to start at a mo-
ment's notice — ^then to leave all behind. I wish that I
could take you all with me, and then, although I should
still regret our desertion of the fate of this country, my per-
sonal regrets would be converted into joyful anticipations.*
He said, in another letter, that he ' wished he could have
been allowed to rest in peace in the quarter that had become
the home of his heart.' He was enabled, however, to take
one of his beloved friends * with him to Delhi j and two
others afterwards followed him to that place.

When Metcalfe left Hyderabad, he was Sir Charles
Metcalfe, Baronet. His elder brother Theophilus had died,
two or three years before, in England, leaving only a daugh-
ter 5 so the title and the paternal estate of Fern Hill in
Berkshire, had passed to the second son of Sir Thomas Met-
calfe. The change was a very distressing one to him, for
he was fondly attached to his brother. It is by this design-
ation of ' Sir Charles Metcalfe ' that he is best known to
history and to the worlds and India claims him by no
other.

I do not purpose to write in detail of the siege and cap-
ture of Bhurtpore, or of the events which preceded it. It
IS sufficient to state that on the i6th of September a formal

♦ John Sutherland, afterwards Colonel Sutherland, one of oui
most distinguished political officers.

596 S/Ji CHARLES MBTCALPB. [zft^

resolution was passed by the Grovemment of India^ declaring
that, ' impressed with a full conviction that the existing dis-
turbance at Bhurtpore, if not speedily quieted^ ^rould pro-
duce general commotion and interruption of the public
tranquillity in Upper India, and feeling convinced that it
was their solemn duty, no less than their right, as the para-
mount power and conservators of the general peace,* to in-
terfere for the prevention of these evils, and that these evils
would be best prevented by the maintenance of the succes-
sion of the rightfid heir to the Raj of Bhurtpore, whilst
such a course would be in strict consistency "with the uniform
practice and policy of the British Grovenunent in all analo-
gous cases, the Grovemor-Greneral in Council resolved that
authority be conveyed to Sir C. T. Metcalfe to accomplish
the above objects, if practicable, by expostulation and re-
monstrance, and, should these fail, by a resort to measures
of force.' The issues of peace or war were thus placed in
his hands. The responsibility cast upon him was great \ but
no such burden ever oppressed or disquieted him. He knew
that there was small chance of expostulation and remon-
strance availing in that conjuncture \ but he knew also that
there was a noble army, under an experienced conunander,
prepared to march upon Bhurtpore, and he saw clearly the
advantages of victorious operations against such a place, at
a time when our dubious successes in Burmah were being
exaggerated by native rumour into defeats. He did his best
to obtain the desired results by diplomacy ; but, perhaps, he
was not sorry to fail. The letters which he addressed to
the recusant chiefs were said, by the Grovemment party in
Calcutta, to be ' models of correspondence; * and there the

x8as— 26.] THB SIEGB OF BHURTPORB, 597

uses of the letters began and ended. They elicited only un-
meaning and evasive answers; and so a proclamation of
war was issued^ and the word was given for the advance of
the army on Bhurtpore.

On the 6th of December, Sir Charles Metcalfe joined
the camp of the Commander-in-Chief. On the loth the
Army was before the celebrated Jat fortress. With the
deepest interest did the civilian watch the progress of the
siege. Years had not subdued his military ardour, but they
had brought him increased military experience. For twenty
years he had been studying our military policy in India,
and speculating on the causes of our successes and our
failuFCS. No man had written more emphatically against
that arrogant fatuity which so often displays itself in the
conduct of difficult and hazardous operations with insuffi-
cient means; no man had urged upon the Grovernment
more convincingly the wisdom of securing success by the
employment of that irresistible combination of science and
force which a great European power can always bring
against an Asiatic enemy. And now, although fortified at
the outset by the knowledge that the army which had ad-
vanced against Bhurtpore was sufficiently strong in numbers,
that it was adequately equipped with Artillery, and that
some of the best Engineer officers in India were in camp,
he began to doubt, as the siege advanced, whether too
much would not, after the old fashion, be left to chance.
' We are not getting on here as I like,* he wrote on the 6th
of January. ' At one time we were, and I had great hopes
that the place would be taken scientifically, without risk or
loss. I have now no such expectation. We are to storm

598 SIR CHARLES METCALFE. liZsA

soon, and with the usual uncertainty. We vaaLj succeed,
and I hope that we shall ^ but we may idSl, and whether
we succeed or fail will depend upon chance. The business
will not be made so secure as I thought it would be, and
as I conceive it ought to be. What we have brought to-
grether our large means for I do not understand, if risk is to
be incurred at the end of our operations. It would have
been better tried at the beginning. We might have taken
the place in the first hour,* and we may take it now. But
much as I shall rue it, I shall not be surprised if we fail.
It staggers my opinion to find Greneral Nicolls confident,
but I cannot surrender my judgment even to his on this
point absolutely, and I remain anxious and nervous. * My
opinion will not be altered by success, for I shall still con-
sider it as the work of chance. We ought not to leave
anything to chance, and we are doing it with regard to
everything. Either our boasted science is unavailable or
unavailing against Indian fortifications, or we are now
about to throw away our advantage. I shudder both for
Nicolls and for Sutherland. The former, I think, may
perish in carrying on his difiBcult attack, and the ardour of
the latter will carry him into unnecessary danger. Grod
preserve them both, and save us firbm the not improbable
consequences of our folly. You will have good news or
bad very soon.'

I do not know whether Sir Charles Metcalfe, who was
in frequent communication with Lord Combermere, ex-
pressed these anxieties to the military chie£ but on that

« This was said of Sebastopol in 1855, and of Ddbi in 1857^

i8a6.] CAPTURE OP BHURTPORE, 599

same day the idea of an immediate assault was abandoned.*
The breaching-batteries had not opened Bhurtpore suffi-
ciently to admit the storming columns with good hope of
success^ 80 it was determined to insure victory by mining.
The attack was, therefore, delayed for a fiirther period of
twelve da)rs. 'We stormed on the i8th/ wrote Metcalfe,
a few da3rs afterwards. ' It was a glorious affair, and our
success was most complete Complete as our suc-
cess has been, we have had a narrow escape from a most
disastrous defeat. We can now see that neither the right
breach nor the left, both made by battering, was practicable.
.... Our first mines were bungling, but the latter were
very grand. That to the right did a great deal of mischief
to ourselves; for the people assembling in the trenches
were too near, and the explosion of the mine took effect
outwards. It was a grand sights and was immediately fol-
lowed by that of the advance of the stormii^ columns up
the two great breaches. That on the lefl advanced first on
the signal of the explosion of the mine, and that on the
right immediately afterwards. Both mounted the breaches
steadily, and as quickly as the loose earth and steepness of
the ascent would admit, and attained the summit without
opposition. It was a most animating spectacle.' All this
is mere history ; but it is history written by Metcalfe, who

♦ In the * Life of Lord Combermere,* by Lady Combennere and
Captain Kjioll3rs, there is a letter from the Commander-in-Chief to
the Governor-General, dated January 1 1, which says : * It having
been ascertained that the batteries were not sufficient efTectually to
break the walls, a mine was commenced on the evening of the
6th,' &c. &c.

6oo S/H CHARLES METCALFE. [z826ii

saw the events which are here described^ He accompanied
the Commander-in-Chief into one of the breaches^ but^
thinking that he could better see what "was going on
from another po^tion^ he had separated himself from Lord
Combermere. Soon after this there was an explosion^ fi*om
which the cliief had a very narrow escape. ' I congratulate
myself,* wrote Metcalfe, ' for many about the Commiander-
in-chief were killed or bruised by the explosion of our
mine, and his own escape was surprising.'

So Bhurtpore was taken ; and Metcalfe, when the work
of war was at an end, placed upon (he throne the boy-
Prince whom his usurping uncle had endeavoured to thrust
out from his rightful inheritance. The usurper was sent, a
prisoner, to Allahabad. There was then some further work
to be done in the principality of Ulwur, but it did not
give much trouble, and Metcalfe returned to Delhi. Pubhc
affairs had gone prosperously with him 5 but in those which
were much nearer and dearer to his heart there had been a
fatality of the most distressing character. Within a short
space he lost two of his most beloved friends. The first
was Captain Barnett; the second was Mr Richard Wells,
a young member of the Bengal CivU Service, who had fol-
lowed him from Hyderabad, and had been appointed an
assistant at Delhi. These calamities cut him to the heart.
' You will have heard long before this,' he wrote to Major
Moore, then secretary to the Hyderabad Residency, ' of the
second blow which, in a short space, it has pleased Almighty
Grod to inflict upon us. One brief month included to us
here the death of both Barnett and Wells. . . . We have
been thoroughly wretched. The world is fast receding from

I8a6-17.] IN COUNCIL. 6oi

me ^ for what is the world without the friends of our heart ?
You remember the three friends with whom I arrived at
Hyderabad in 1820 — Barnett, Wells, Mackenzie. I loved
them all cordially. Where are they now ? I cannot write
on the subject. But I can hardly think of any other.* In
another letter, speaking of the death of Richard Wells, he
said that he could hardly believe that the anguish of the
desolated widow could be greater than his. ' Were I to
hear at this moment,* h§ added, ' of my nomination to be
Governor-General of India or Prime Minister of England,
I am sure that the intelligence would create no sensation
but disgust.' Ambition was ever heavy within him, but it
was light in the balance against the great wealth of afiection
garnered in that warm human heart*

He had now fairly earned a seat in the Supreme Coun-
cil, and in 1827 it was conferred upon him. He then took
up his residence in Calcutta, and was the most hospitable
and the most popular of men. In those days the Supreme
Council consisted of the Governor-General, the Command-
er-in-Chief, and two members of the covenanted Civil
Service. Lord Amherst and Lord Combermere still held
office. The civilian colleague, who welcomed Metcalfe
to the Presidency, was his old friend, Mr Butterworth
Bayley — a man whom to know was to reverence and to
love. He had risen to high office after a career of nearly
thirty years of good service, chiefly in the unostentatious
paths of the judicial department. His life had been a far
less stirring one than Metcalfe's ; but he had done his own

6oa S/Jf CHARLES METCALPB. [zSoT-di.

particular work so well that few men bore a higher official
reputation^ whilst his unfailing kindness of heart and suavity
of manner endeared him to all who had the privilege of
coming within the reach of their genial influences. There
was not one of his contemporaries^ perhaps, whom Metcalfe
would sooner have found at the Board, nor one with whom
he was likely to act more amicably in Council, notwith-
standing occasional divergences of opinion.

Sir John Malcolm, who was then Grovemor of Bombay,
wrote to Sir Charles Metcalfe, sajring, * If you are my heau
idkal of a good coimcillor, you content yourself with read-
ing what comes before you, and writing a full minute now
and then, when the subject merits it 5 and do not fret your-
self and perplex others by making much of small matters.
Supposing this to be the case, you must have leisure, and
if I find you have, I must now and then intrude upon it.'
But Metcalfe complained bitterly of the want of leisure.
His life was a great conflict with Time. ' My days,* he
wrote to a friend, 'are portioned as much as possible,
so as to enable me to do everything that I have to do,
but in vain. Thursday and Friday are appropriated to
Council, and nothing else can be done upon those days.
Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday are wholly devoted to
the reading of papers that come in, and reading and re-
vising those that go out^ but all three are not enough.
Saturday I take for writing minutes and revising despatches

that go out, but find it too little You know how

little I have written to you, to other correspondents still
less ; and yet the number of letters I have to answer is
overwhelming. I have been at work for some hours now.

I8a7— 38.] IN COUNCIL. 603

but I have still twenty-five letters on my table requiring
answers — six or eight from £ngland. The want of time

makes me half road To add to my distress, people

will have the kindness to breakfast with me. I am six
miles away from them, but that is not sufficient. I shut
my doors at all other times, come who may. I should be
happy in my business if I had more time for the perform-
ance of my various duties, but the want of it plagues me.
The only resource lefi: is to withdraw fi-om society, and to
work at night, but I shall tear my eyes to pieces if I do.* —
{^February 3, 1828.] This systematic distribution of time
was not found to answer 5 and so, a few weeks later, it was
changed. 'I have made,' he said, 'a great alteration in
my mode of despatching my business. I reserve no day
for any particular branch, but get over all, as well as I can,

as it comes in The bundle of private letters which

used to accumulate for the day in the week set apart was
quite overwhelming and insurmountable. I now go pell-
mell at all in the ring, and, as far as the new method has
yet gone, it promises better than the last.* — IMarch 8, 1828.]
But the claims of society were more oppressive than the
claims of official work. * It requires,* he wrote, ' a strong
conviction of its being a duty to sustain me in keeping up
society. Were I to follow my natural or acquired taste, I
should ^t sink into habits of seclusion when the company
of friends is not obtainable. I have nothing to complain
of in society, and am happy enough when in it, but the
making up of parties, issuing of invitations, &c., are trouble-
some operations, which harass me, and frequently drive me
from my purpose. My conscience is continually reproaching

604 S/H CHARLES METCALFE. [x8fll.

me with want of hospitality and attention to individuals
entitled to them. Many a man has come to Calcutta, and
gone from it without once receiving an invitation to my
house, which an indescribable something-r— anything but
good will — ^has prevented until it was too late. My house,
although it has more rooms for entertaining than any other
house in Calcutta, is deficient in that kind of room which
is requisite in laige parties — ^the ones which^ with respect
to general society, would answer best for me, as killing all
my birds with one stone. I am thinking of building a
grand ball-room. It would not, I suppose, cost less, alto-
gether, than 20,000 rupees — a large sum to lay out on an-
other man's property 5 but I am not sure that it would not
be cheaper than giving parties in the Town-hall — ^my other
resource — each of which costs above 8000 rupees, and can-
not, therefore, be oflen repeated I enjoy the so-
ciety of our house-party very much, retaining, however,
my old habits of seclusion frojxx break^t to dinner, which
are seldom broken in upon, except by the Bushby's chil-
dren, who trot up frequently to my loft in the third story
where I have my sitting-room and library as well as bed-
room. It is, in short, the portion of the house which I
keep to my^lf, and there they make me show them the
pictures, &c., being privileged by infancy to supersede all
affairs of every kind.* — [May 18, 1828.]

His distaste for general society seemed to grow stronger
as time advanced, but to the outer world it appeared that
he delighted in crowds. He gave splendid entertainments
—large dinner-parties and balls — ^but he regarded these
merely as ' duties proper to his station.' What he thought

i8a8-a^] IN COUNCIL, 605

on the subject may be gathered from his correspondence
with his familiar friends 5 but in this I am inclined to think
that there is observable a little of the exaggeration of tem-
porary languor and depression of spirit. ' I am withdraw-
ing myself more and more from public intercourse,* be
wrote in March, 1829, 'and am only waiting an oppor-
tunity to shake off the remaining shackles and become en-
tirely a recluse 5 since neither is the performance of public
duty compatible with a waste of time in society, nor is
knowledge of men's characters in general compatible with
that respect for them without which society has no pleasure
in it. I am becoming every day more and more sour, and
morose, and dissatisfied.* Metcalfe had said this before.
But he deceived himself to his own disadvantage. It was
impossible to look into his kindly expressive face, or to
converse with him for a few minutes, without feeling that
there was in truth no sourness or moroseness in his nature.
The fact is, that he lamented the loss of his old fHends,
and he had not at that time formed new associations of the
same gratifying character. 'The longer I live,* he said,
'the less I like strange faces, or any other faces than
those of friends whom I love.* It may be suggested,
also, that the depression of spirit often observable in his
correspondence at this time is attributable in some measure
to his sedentary habits. He took very little exercise. Un-
like Malcolm and Elphinstone, he was an exceedingly bad
horseman, and everything of an athletic character was en-
tirely out of his line.*

* He occasionally rode out in the early morning within the
spacious grounds of his mansion at Alipore^ which he occupied during

6o6 Sm CHARLES METCALFE. Li888-3X

But, 88 time advanced. Sir Charles Metcalfe's position
in Calcutta became more and more endurable, until he
well-nigh regained his old buoyancy and elasticity of mind.
In July, 1828, Lord William Bentinck had succeeded Lord
Amherst as Grovemor-General of India. Metcalfe's first
impressions of his new colleague were favourable to him,
but somehow or other the two did not assimilate, and the
councillor, who had some reason to think that Lord William
had been prejudiced against him by the Rumbold party at
home, said that the new Grovemor-General did not under-
stand him, and preferred anybody *s opinions to his. ' This
forces me,* he said, ' to record dissentient opinions in minutes
more frequently, than would be necessary, if we could co-
operate with more sympathy.* And then he added, with
that union of candour and modesty which made him so
often express mistrust of himself, ' I fear that there is a want
of suavity, or a want of blandness, or some other defect
about me, that is not palatable.* This was, perhaps, the
last cause in the world to which any one else would have
assigned the want of cordial co-operation between the two
statesmen which marked the first year of their connection.
But, whatever the cause, it soon passed away, and with it
the eflfect. Lord William Bentinck and Sir Charles Met-
calfe became fast friends and sympathizing workmen. This

the later years of his Calcutta residence. He had a stout cobby white
horse, which carried him with tolerable safety, and he generally wore
top-boots. These had been for many years a favourite article of
attire. I found among his papers a rough pen-and-ink sketch, con-
trasting the lower extremities of Sir Charles Metcalfe (in tops) with
those of Lord Hastings (in hessians), the distinctive difference being
by no means confined to the boots.

i830-3a-] 'DEPUTY-GOVERNOR. 607

alone would have made the latter a happier man. But
there were favourable circumstances which touched him
more nearly. He was gathering around him a cordon of
friends. Lord William Bentinck went up the country, and
then Mr Bayley became Vice-President in Coimcil and
Deputy-Governor of Bengal. His time of office, however,
having expired in November, 1830, Sir Charles Metcalfe
succeeded him. This enabled him to add to his ' family *
two members who contributed much to his happiness. The
one was Captain John Sutherland, of whom I have already
spoken 5 the other was Lieutenant James Higginson,*
whose acquaintance he had made at Bhurtpore, and who
had afterwards been on the Staff of Lord William Bentinck.
The former was now made private secretary, and the latter
aide-de-camp, to the Deputy-CJovemor j and Metcalfe no
longer complained that he was cut off from his friends.

As the members of Coimcil were appointed only for
five years. Sir Charles Metcalfe's term of office would have
expired in August, 1832. But Lord William Bentinck, as
the time approached, determined to make an effort to retain
his services 5 so he wrote urgently to the President of the
India Board (Mr Charles Grant), saying : ' Sir Charles
Metcalfe will be a great loss to me. He quite ranks with
Sir Thomas Munro, Sir John Malcolm, and Mr Elphin-
stone. If it be intended — ^and the necessity cannot admit
of a doubt — to form a second local (Jovemment in Bengal,
he undoubtedly ought to be at the head. I strongly re-

• Afterwards Sir James Higginson, Governor of the Mauritius.
These arrangements were necessarily of a temporary character
contingent on the return of the Governor-General to the Presidency.

6o8 SIR CHARLES METCALFE, [1833-34.

commend him. Whilst he has alwa3r8 maintained the most
perfect independence of character and conduct^ he has been
to me a most zealous supporter and friendly colleague.*
The 'second local (jovemment,* however, was not then
ripe. So the Court of Directors, bj a special vote, con^
tinned Sir Charles Metcalfe's period of service in Council
to August, 18345 3°^ ^ ^® remained at the Council Board
in Calcutta.

There was still higher office in store for him. When
under the new Charter it was contemplated to establish a
fourth Presidency in Upper India, to embrace very much
the tract of country which Metcalfe had spoken of as con-
ferring upon him the ' Kingship of the East and the West,'
he was selected to fill the office ; and he was nominated
also Provisional Crovemor-General of India, to succeed on
the death or resignation of Lord William Bentinck, in the
event of an interregnum in the Government. How after*
wards the (rovemment of Agra shrivelled down into a
Lieutenant-Governorship need not be narrated here. He
had scarcely reached Allahabad and assumed the Govern-
ment, when he received inteUigence of the intended de-
parture of Lord William Bentinck. As 'Provisional
Governor-General,' therefore, in the absence of any sub-
stantive appointment to the high office, it was now Met-
calfe's privilege to receive from him the reins of Govern-
ment. He hastened, therefore, back to the Presidency,
and arrived in time to shake the departing ruler by the
hand, and to bid God-speed to him and to that pearl of
gentlewomen, his admirable wife.

With what sentiments Lord William Bentinck parted

i833— 3S-] GOVERNOR-GENERAL, 609

from his colleague may be gathered from his own recorded
words. 'My connection/ said the Grovernor-Greneral,
' with Sir Charles Metcalfe in Council^ during more than
six years, ought to make me the best of witnesses^ imless,
indeed, friendship should have blinded me and conquered
my detestation of flattery, which, I trust, is not the case. I
therefore unhesitatingly declare, that whether in public or
private life, I never met with the individual whose integrity,
liberality of sentiment, and deHcacy of mind, excited in a
greater degree my respect and admiration. The State
never had a more able or upright coimcillor, nor any
Govemor-Greneral a more valuable and independent assist-
ant and friend 5 and during the same period, any merit that
can be claimed for the principles by which the Indian Go-
vernment has been guided, to Sir Charles must the full
share be assigned. Neither has the access which my situ-
ation has given me to the public records and to past trans-
actions led me to form a less favourable opinion of his
preceding career. I need not enter into particulars. Suffice
it to express my sincere impression, that among all the
statesmen, who since my first connection with India
have best served their coimtry and have most exalted its
reputation and interests in the East, Webb, Close, Sir
Arthur Wellesley, Elphinstone, Munro, and Malcolm, equal
rank and equal honour ought to be given to Sir Charles
Metcalfe.*

He had now reached the topmost step of the ladder.
The dreams of the Eton cloisters, the air-built castles of the
Muttra tent, had become substantial realities. He had said
that he would some day be Grovemor-General of India —

VOL. I. 39

6io S/H CHARLES METCALFE. [1835.

and now the great official crown was upon his head. It
might not remain there long, but it was something to be
Governor-General even for a day. Some believed that the
substantive appointment would be, and all hoped that it
might be, conferred upon him.* Metcalfe^ however, had

♦ The Court of Directors, who, as aheady told, had oscillated
between Elphinstone and Malcolm, were, when the former declined
to return to India, unwilling to fill up the substantive appointment at
once. They wished that Sir Charles Metcalfe should continue as long
as possible at the head of the administration, and they believed that
the King's Government, who were then adverse to the nomination of
a Compan/s officer, might in time be reconciled to it. The follow-
ing are the resolutions which were carried by a majority of fifteen to
two of the members of the Court :

* That this Court deeply lament that the state of Lord William
Bentinck's health should be such as to deprive the Company of his
most valuable services ; and this Court deem it proper to record, on
the occasion of his Lordship's resignation of the office of Governor-
General, their high sense of the distinguished ability, energy, zeal,
and integrity with which his Lordship has discharged the arduous
duties of his exalted station.

' That, referring to the appointment which has been conferred by
the Coiul, with the approbation of his Majesty, on Sir Charles T.
Metcalfe, provisionally, to act as Governor-General of India, upon the
death, resignation, or coming away of Lord William Bentinck ; and
adverting also to the public character and services of Sir Charles
Metcalfe, whose knowledge, experience, and talents eminently qualify
him to prosecute successfully tlie various important measures conse-
quent on the new Charter Act, this Court are of opinion that it would
be inexpedient at present to make any other arrangement for supply-
ing the office of Governor-General. And it is resolved, accordingly,
that the Chairs be authorized and instructed to communicate this
opinion to his Majesty's Ministers through the President of the Board
of Commissioners for the Affairs of India.*

Mr Grant was at this time President of the Board of Control. His
objections, as given in his letter of October I, 1834, are worth

i83S— 30-i • GOVERNOR-GENERAL, 6ii

no expectation of snch a result. In the first place, he knew
that the influence of the Court and the Cabinet would as-
suredly prevail against the 'old Indian' party at home 5
and, in the second, he felt assured that in the eyes of a
large section of that party, he had irremediably damaged
himself by his conduct at Hyderabad. He was right. But
the interregnum was one of unexpected duration. The
appomtment of Lord Heytesbury, made by the Tories,
having been cancelled by the Whigs, there followed much
discussion, involving much delay, with respect to the choice
of a successor ; and so Sir Charles Metcalfe remained at the
head of the Indian Government until the spring of 1836.

The interregnum of the Indian civilian was not a barren
one. It was rendered famous by an act, which has, per-
haps, been more discussed, and with greater variance of
opinion, than any single measure of any Governor-General
of India. He liberated the Indian Press. Under the

quoting : * With respect to the appointment to that office of any
servant of the Company, however eminent his knowledge, talents,
and experience may confessedly be, hts Majesty's Ministers agree in the
sentiments of Mr Canning, expressed in a leitei; from him to the
Court on the 2^th of December, 1820^ that the case can hardly be
conceived in which it would be expedient that the highest office of the
Government fn India shouM be filled otherwise than from England,
and that that one main link at least between tiie S3rstems of the Indian
and British Governments, ought, for tiie advantage of both, to be in-
variably maintained. On this principle it has usually been thought
proper to act ; and in the various important measures consequent on
the new Charter Ac^ his Majesty*s Ministers see much to enjoin the
continuance of the general practice, but nothing to recommend a
deviation from it.* Before Lord Grey's Government had appointed a
successor to Lord William Bentinck, there was a ministerial crisis,
and Lord Heytesbury was nominated by the Tories.

6i2 sm CHARLES METCALFE, . [1835-36.

Grovemment of his predecessor, freedpm of speech had been
habitually allowed, but the sword of the law still remained
in the hand of the civil Grovemment, and at any time it
might have been stretched forth to destroy the liberty which
was thus exercised. But Metcalfe was not content with
this state of things. He desired that the free expression of
thought should be the right of all classes of the community.
He took his stand boldly upon the broad principle, that to
deny this right is to contend 'that the essence of good
government is to cover the land with darkness.' ' If their
argument,* he added, 'be that the spread of knowledge
may eventually be ratal to our rule in India, I close with
them on that point, and maintain that, whatever may be
the consequence, it is our duty to conununicate the benefits
of knowledge. If India could be preserved as a part of the
British Empire only by keeping its inhabitants in a state of
ignorance, our domination would be a curse to the country,
and ought to cease. But I see more ground for just appre-
hension in ignorance itself. I look to the increase of
knowledge with a hope that it may strengthen our empire 5
that it may remove prejudices, soften asperities, and substi-
tute a rational conviction of the benefits of our Grovemmentj
that it may unite the people and their rulers in sympathy,
and that the differences which separate them may be
gradually lessened, and ultimately annihilated. Whatever,
however, be the will of Almighty Providence respecting
the future government of India, it is clearly our duty, as
long as the charge be confided to our hands, to execute the
trust to the best of our ability for the good of the people.'
It would be difficult to gainsay thisj but the Court of

1836.] LIEUTENANT-GOVERNOR, 613

Directors of the East India Company had not much sym-
pathy with these ' highi-flown notions.* The intelligence of
what he had done reached them whilst the question of the
Governor-Generalship was still an open one. It may have
in some measure influenced the decision, but I scarcely
think that it did. At all events, Metcalfe soon heard from
England, with some exaggeration, that he had lost the con-
fidence of the Company. Lord Auckland was appointed
Governor-Greneral of India 3 but the provisional appoint-
ment which made him the 'second man in India,* was
renewed iii his favour. The King's Ministers, too, testified
their confidence in him by recommending him for the
Grand Cross of the Bath. The new Governor-General
carried out the insignia, and formally invested him soon
after his arrival.

It was now a question earnestly debated in Metcalfe*s
mind, whether he would take ship for England, or whether
he would return to the North- Western Provinces to take
charge of the administration which he had quitted to
assume the (Jovernor-Generalship. It was no longer the
Agra Presidency. It had become a Lieutenant-Governor-
ship, and was formally in the gift of the (rovemor-General.
Lord Auckland was very desirous that he should accept the
ofifice, and some of the leading members of the Court of
Directors had urged him not to decline the offer. So he
made up his mind to remain a little longer yet in harness.
There was really as much substantive authority in the new
constitution as in the old. ' It is inferior only,' he wrote
to his aunt, Mrs Monson, * in designation, trappings, and
allowances. These are not matters which I should think a

6i4 SIR CHARLES MBTCALFJS. [1836.

sufficient reason for giving^ when I am desired to stay bj
those whose uniform kindness to me gives them a right to
claim my services. I feel that I have no excuse for aban-
doning a post to which I am called by all parties concerned
in the election^ and in which I have greater opportunities
of being useful to my country and to mankind than I could
expect to find anywhere else. The decision^ however^ costs
me much. I had been for some time indulging in pleasing
visions of home and the enjoyments of retirement and
affectionate intercourse with relatives and friends.* He had
now spent thirty-five years in India^ without leaving the
country for a day j but his interest in his work was as keen
as in the old days of Lord Wellesley and Lord Minto.

But he had not long exercised the powers of Lieutenant-
Governor, when renewed reports came to him from Eng-
land that the Court of Directors regarded him with
dissatisfaction on account of his liberation of the Indian
Press. This,disquieted him greatly, and in his disquietude
he addressed a. letter to the official organ of the Company,
in which he requested, that if he had really lost the confid-
ence of the Court, his provisional appointment of Grovemor-
General might be withdrawn, and that he might resign his
office and retire from the service of the Company. ' If the
reports,* he wrote to Mr Melvill, 'which have reached this
country from England be true; if I have really lost the
confidence of the Court, and have fallen so low in their
estimation as deliberately to be deemed now unworthy of
the position which they accorded to me three years ago in
tlie Government of -a subordinate Presidency, it is my
earnest entreaty that the Court will withdraw from me the

1836.] OFFER OF RESIGNATION. 615

provisional appointment of Governor-General, or otherwise
intimate their pleasure to me, in order that I may resign
that appointment, and retire from the service of the Com-
pany. I have no wish to retain by forbearance an appoint-
ment conferred on me when I was honoured with the
confidence of the Court, if that confidence is gone, or to
hold my office on mere sufferance, or to serve in any capacity
under the stigma of displeasure and distrust. But if I
retain the confidence of the Court unimpaired, it will be
highly gratifying to me to know that I have been misled
by erroneous reports in supposing the possibility of the con-
trary. In that case I have no desire to retire from the
public service. I am proud of the honour conferred by the
provisional appointment of Govemor-Greneral. I take a
great interest in the duties which I have to perform as
Lieutenant-Grovemor of the North-Western Provinces of
India, and am wilUng to devote myself with all my heart
to the service of the State as long as health and faculties
enable me to work to any usefril purpose. I am aware that
I lay myself open to reproof in imagining a want of con-
fidence which has not been authentically announced to me
by any of those means which the Court has at command.
If I have erred in this respect, and have not had sufficient
cause for this address, I trust that the Court will forgive
the error. Having received on former occasions marked
proofs of confidence and esteem, I could not rest easy .under
reports, in some degree strengthened by appearances, which
indicated the loss of those favourable sentiments.'

Before this letter was written, intelligence had reached
Agra that Lord Elphinstone had been appointed Governor

6i6 S/H CHARLES MBTCALFB, [iS^ft.

of Madras Metcalfe had some time before been talked of
for that post \ but it had been given to Sir Frederick Adam^
mainly^ it was believed^ through the interest of Lord
Brougham. This had not in any way disturbed him ; and^
in truth, he had no desire to go to Madras. But whsn
some good-natured friends in London told him that his
appointment to that Government had been again dis-
cussed, and that his claims had been set aside as an inten-
tional mark of the Court's displeasure, the case wore a
new aspect. Very different considerations determined the
appointment of Lord Elphinstone 5 but that the liberation
of the Press had caused Metcalfe to lose caste and credit in
Leadenhall-street was repeated in so many * Europe letters *
to himself and others, tnat he could not disbelieve the
story. 'I do not care a straw for the Grovemment of
Madras,* he wrote to his aunt, Mrs Monson, ' and I am
probably better where I am 3 but I do not mean to serve
in avowed disgrace.' To his friend, Mr Tucker, he wrote
in the same strain : ' The loss of the Madras Govemment
did not give me any concern, but the asserted dissatisfaction
of the Court distressed me, and I felt that I could not re-
main in a state of implied disgrace. I therefore wrote as I
did to you, and I am now expecting the Court's reply, on
the receipt of which I shall have to make up my mind as to
the course which I ought to pursue.' In August the
answer came. It was outwardly cold and formal. It
expressed the regret of the Court that Sir Charles Metcalfe
should have thought it necessary to make such a communi-
cation, and added that the continuance in him provisionally
of the highest office which the Court had it in its power to

1837O RESIGN A TION, 617

confer, ought to have satisfied him that their confidence had
not been withdrawn.

But Metcalfe was not satisfied ; so he forthwith sent in
his resignation, and prepared to return to England. The
letter which he addressed to the Secretary of the East India
Company clearly indicated how painfully he was hurt.
'The Court,* he said in conclusion, 'pronoimced that my
letter was altogether unnecessary. With deference, I think
that there was good and sufiicient reason to seek an under-
standing with the Court, for any one who regards the appro-
bation of his superior as an essential condition of his servi-
tude. Either I had lost or I retained the confidence of the
Court. If the latter were the case, a few kind words to
that effect would have assured me that I could continue to
serve without discredit. Instead of which, I receive a
laconic letter, taking no notice whatever of the sentiments
expressed in mine, but conveying a reproof for having
written it, given in a tone which leaves me no reason to
suppose that the Court entertain the least desire for the
continuance of my services. Under all these circumstances,
I must conclude — ist, that I was intentionally disgraced
when I was passed over in the nomination of a Governor
for Madras 5 2nd, that the Court retain the sentiments under
which that disgrace was purposely inflicted, and hence no
wish to remove the feelings which it was calculated to
excite 5 and 3rd, that your letter of the i jth of April, with
reference to mine of the 22nd of August last, could only
produce the effect that it has produced, and, consequently,
that my resignation was contemplated in the despatch of
that letter. ' I trust that I have sufficiently explained the

6i8 S/Id CHARLES METCALFE. [1837.

causes which compel me reluctantly to retire from the public
service, to which, if I could have remained with honour, I
would willingly have devoted the whole of my life/

There is no incident of Sir Charles Metcalfe's official
career of which I have thought so much as ofthis^ and re-
garding which, as the result of this much thought, I feel
such great doubt and uncertainty. One of th& shrewdest
and most sagacious men whom I have ever known, with
half a century of experience of public afiairs to give weight
to his words, said to me, with reference to this very subject,
' The longer I live, the more convinced I am that over-
sensitiveness is a fault in a public man ^ * and there is great
truth in the saying. Another very sagacious public servant
has written : ' With regard to hostility evinced towards a
statesman behind his back, and which comes privately to
his knowledge, his best course will be to leave it unnoticed,
and not allow his knowledge of it to transpire.* This also
I believe to be true. I am disposed, therefore, at the pre-
sent time to think that it would have been a wiser and a
more dignified course to have left the rumours of which I
have spoken wholly unnoticed. No man could have
afforded it better than Metcalfe ; no man could more cer-
tainly have lived down any temporary discredit in high
places. Every official man — ^nay, every man who has much
commerce with the world — has, in the course of his career,
to contend with ignorance and misconception, if not with
envy and malice. Every one, indeed, who has done any-
thing better than his fellows must lay his account for this
as one of the inevitable crosses of his life. It is better, in
such a case, ' to bear up and steer right on,' supported by

1837J RESIGNATION. 6x9

' the conscience,* than to *bout ship and go into harbour,
when the winds are a little adverse. Life is too short for
contests of this kind — ^too short even for explanations.
Metcalfe was fully persuaded in his own mind that what he
did was right j and as the superior authorities did not tell
him that he was wrong, I think that it would have been
better if he had left unnoticed the private reports which
reached him from England. STo public servant, of any
grade or any capacity, can eipect all that he does to be ap-
proved by higher authority ; and if even a ^&c\2xe6. differ-
ence of opinion on one particular point is to afford a suffi-
cient warrant for resignation of office, the public service of
the country would be brought to a dead-lock. Nor is it to
be forgotten, with reference to more special considerations
affecting the individual case, that this question of the liber-
ation of the press was one on which the opinions of thinking
men were very much divided, and that some of Metcalfe*s
staunchest friends and warmest admirers doubted the expe-
diency of what he had done, though they never ceased to
repose confidence in his general wisdom as a statesman.

But if some infirmity were apparent in this passage of
Metcalfe's life, it was the infirmity of a noble mind, and it
detracts nothing from the general admiration to which he
is entitled. It arose out of what one who knew him well,
from the very commencement of his career, described as
his 'very quick and delicate and noble sense of public char-
acter.* Some years before, he said that he was getting
callous to injustice, and less anxious regarding the opinions
of others ; * but, in truth, he never ceased to be very sen-

* 'I am getting callous to such injustice. My experience at

620 S/H CHAR'LES METCALFE, [i8y.

sidve on the score of his official reputation^ and veiy eager
to repel all assaults upon it. And that^ not fix>m any selfish
or egotistical feelings, but from a prevailing sense that by
so doing he was maintaining the dignity and the purity of
the Public Service. Indeed, the official sensitiveness, of
which I am speaking, marks more distinctly than anything
else the great frontier-line between the old and the new
race of public servants in fndia. It had become a laudable
ambition to pass through all the stages of official* life with-
out a stain or even a reproach.

No man ever left India, carrying with him such lively
regrets and such cordial good wishes from all classes of the
community. I can well remember the season of his de-
parture from Calcutta. The Presidency was unwontedly
enlivened by Metcalfe baUs and Metcalfe dinners, and ad-
dresses continually pouring in, and deputations both from
English and Native Societies. It would take much of
time and much of space to speak of all these 3 and I must
refrain from the attempt to record them. But it may be
mentioned that, on one of these farewell festal occasions,
after Metcalfe*s health had been drunk in the ordinary way,
as a statesman who had conferred great benefits upon the
country, and a member of society beloved by all who had
come within the circle of his genial influence, another toast
was given in the words 'Charles Metcalfe, the soldier of
Deeg.' The story of the ' littje stormer,' then but slightly

Hyderabad has taught me some useful lessons ; and though it gives
me a worse opinion of human nature than I had before, it wiU make
me individually less liable to annoyance, by making me less anxious
regarding the opinions of others.* — Bhurtpare^ Feb, 1826.

x837.] ff^S OPINIONS, 621

known, was told^ and well told ; and the military enthu-
siasm of the many officers there present was roused to the
highest pitch. I shall never forget the applause of the
assembly which greeted this unexpected tribute to the com-
pleteness of Sir Charles Metcalfe*s character. All that gay
assemblage in the Town-hall of Calcutta rose to him, with
a common movement^ as though there had been but one
heart among them all, and many an eye glistened as women
waved their handkerchiefs and men clapped their hands —
and every one present thought how much he was loved.

During his tenure of these several offices in the Supreme
Government of India, Sir Charles Metcalfe wrote many
very important State papers, officially known as ' Minutes,*
which were always respectfully received by his colleagues,
and very often influenced their opinions in the right direc-
tion. In other shapes, too, he sometimes recorded his
views ; and a large selection from his papers has been laid
before the world. They are distinguished by a remarkable
amoimt of sagacious common sense, conveyed in most lucid
English. I do not know a better example of a thoroughly
good official style. There was in all he wrote a directness
of purpose, a transparent sincerity, which won the admira-
tion of the reader, if it did not convince his judgment. To
say that he was without his own particular prejudices would
be almost to say that he was perfect. In many respects he
was before his age ; but there were some points with re-
spect to which he was behind it. He demonstrated, in the
most convincing manner, the earnestness of his desire to

6a2 S/H CHARLES METCALFE, 1 183;.

advance the moral progress of the people of India ; but it
does not appear that he had much sympathy \trith the efforts
which were being made to advance the material progj^ess
of the country. He could clearly see what ^were the bene-
fits to be derived from the difiusion of knowledge among
the subjects of the British Government in India ; but he
was sceptical regarding the profit to be drawn from the
improvement of internal and external communications pf
the country, by means of good roads, and steam vessels to
and from £ngland. It puzzled many people at the time,
and, doubtless, it has puzzled many since, to understand
how one, who had been among ihe first to recommend the
free admission of European settlers into England, should
have imdervalued such material aids to the promotion of
European enterprise.

There was another point upon which he held opinions
differing from those of the majority of his contemporaries ;
but Time has revealed that if he stood alone, in this respect,
he stood alone in his wisdom. He oflen spoke and wrote
of the insecurity of our British Empire in India, and pre-
dicted that it would some day be imperilled, if not over-
thrown, by our own Native Army. He expressed himself
very strongly in conversation on this subject, sometimes*
saying that we were sitting on a barrel of g^powder and
never knew when it would explode, and at others declaring
that we should wake up some morning and find that we
had lost India. He based his opinion on such arguments
as the following : ' Our hold is so precarious, that a very
httle mismanagement might accomplish our expulsion ; and
the course of events may be of itself sufficient, without any

x837.] COUNCIL MINUTES. 623

mismanagement. We are, to appearance, more powerful
in India now than we ever were. Nevertheless, our down-
fall may be short work ; when it commences, it will, prob-
ably, be rapid, and the world will wonder more at the
suddenness with which our immense empire may vanish,
than it has done at the surprising conquest that we have
achieved. The cause of this precariousness is that our power
does not rest on actual strength but upon impression. Our
whole real strength is in the few European regiments,
speaking comparatively, that are scattered singly over the
vast space of subjugated India. That is the only portion of
our soldiery whose hearts are with us, and whose constancy
can be relied on in the hour of trial. All our native estab-
lishments, military and civil, are the followers of fortune 5
they serve us for their livelihood, and generally serve us
well. From a sense of what is due to the hand that feeds
them — ^which is one of the virtues that they most extol —
they may often display fidelity under trying circumstances 5
but in their inward feelings they partake more or less of the
universal disaffection which prevails against us, not from
bad government, but from natural and irresistible antipathy 9
and were the wind to change — ^to use a native expression —
and to set in steadily against us, we could not expect that
their sense of honour, although there might be splendid in-
stances of devotion, would keep the mass on our side in
opposition to the common feeling which, with one view,
might for a time unite all India from one end to the other.
Empires grow old, decay, and perish. Ours in India can
hardly be called old, but seems destined to be short-lived.
We appear to have passed the brilliancy and vigour of our

624 S//^ CHARLES METCALFE, [1837.

youth, and it may be that we have reached a premature old
age. We have ceased to be the wonder that we were to
the natives; the charm which once encompassed us has been
dissolved, and our subjects have had time to inquire why
they have been subdued. The consequences of the inquiry
may appear, hereafter. If these speculations are not devoid
of foundation, they are useful in diverting our minds to the
contemplation of the real nature of our power, and in pre-
venting a delusive belief of its impregnability. Our great-
est danger is not from a Russian power, but from the fading
of the impression of our invincibility from the minds of the
native inhabitants of India. The disaffection which would
root us out abundantly exists ; the concurrence of circum-
stances sufficient to call it into general action may 4t any
time happen.* * And again : ' Some say that our empire
in India rests on opinion, others on main force. It, in fact,
depends on both. We could not keep the country by
opinion, if we had not a considerable force -, and no force
that we could pay would be sufficient, if it were not aided
by the opinion of our invincibility. Our force does not
operate so much by its actual strength as by the impression
which it produces, and that impression is the opinion by
which we hold India. Internal insurrection, therefore, is
one of the greatest of our dangers, or, rather, becomes so
when the means of quelling it are at a distance. It is easy

♦ This is part of a paper written in reply to some qaestions pro-
pounded in England at the time of the Parliamentary Inquiries of
1832-33, and submitted by Government to the principal authorities
on questions of Indian government. Whether this paper was ever
officially sent in I do not know. It does not appear in the printed
replies to these questions in the parliamentary papers.

1837.1 ff^^ OPINIONS. 62s

to decide It, because insurgents may not have the horse,
foot, and artilieiy of a reg^ar army ; but it becomes serious
it we have not those materials at hand. Nothing can be a
stronger proof of our weakness in the absence of a military
force, even when it is not far removed, than the history of
such insurrections as have occurred. The civil power, and
all semblance of the existence of our government, are in-
stantly swept away by the torrent.'

But although Sir Charles Metcalfe believed that the
permanent fidelity of the Sepoy army could not be relied
upon, he admitted that the native soldiery were in many
respects worthy of admiration, and that it was our policy to .
maintain large bodies of them, as we could not turn the
whole of India into a great European garrison. ' The late
Governor-Greneral,* * he wrote, ' condemns our Indian
army, in a sweeping sentence, as being the most expensive
and least efficient in the world. If it were so, how should
we be here ? Is it no proof of efficiency that it has con-
quered all India ? Is it no proof of efficiency that India is
more universally tranquil, owing to our Indian army, than
it ever was under any native Government or Governments
that we read of ? If our Indian army be so expensive, why
do we not employ European troops alone to maintain India ?
Why, but because Europeans are so much more expensive
that we could not pay a sufficient number ? If our Indian
army be so inefficient, why do we incur the expense of
making soldiers of the natives ? Why do we not entertain
the same number of undisciplined people, who would cost
much less ? Why, but because then we should lose the

^ Lord William Bentinck.
VOL. I. 40

696 S/H CHARLES METCALFE, [1837,

country from the inefficiency of our native force r If, there-
fore, the Indian army be preferable to a European force on
account of its cheapness, and to other native troops on ac-
count of its efficiency 5 if we cannot substitute any other
force cheaper and more efficient, how can it justly be said
to be the most expensive and least efficient army in the
world ? It enables us to conquer and keep India. If it
performs well every duty required of it, hard work in quar-
ters, good service in the field, how can it be subject to the
imputation of inefficiency ? The proof of its cheapness and
of its efficiency is, that we cannot substitute any other de-
scription of force at once so cheap and so efficient.'

It was doubtful, in those days, whether India could
afford to maintain a permanent European force of thirty
thousand men. Sir Charles Metcalfe felt this very strongly j
but he could see no other element of safety than the pre-
sence of our English regiments, unless our national manhood
should take root in the soil by the agency of extensive
colonization. ' Considering,' he said, ' the possible disaffec-
tion of our native army as our only internal danger, and the
want of physical strength and moral energy as rendering
them unable to contend with a European enemy, his Lord-
ship proposes that the European portion of our army should
be one-fourth, and eventually one-third, in proportion to
the strength of our native army. He considers this as re-
quiring a force of thirty thousand Europeans in India. In
the expediency of having at least this force of Europeans,
even in ordinary times, I entirely concur 5 that is, if we can
pay them. But the limit to this, and every other part of
our force, must be regulated by our means. If we attempted

1837.] ^^S OPINIONS, 627

to fix it according to our wants, we should soon be without
the means of maintaining any army. Thirty thousand
European troops would be vastly inadequate for the purpose
of meeting the imagined Russian invasion, for we should
more require European troops in the interior of India at
that time than at any other. To have our army on a foot-
ing calculated for that event is impossible. Our army can-
not well be greater than it is, owing to want of means. It
cannot well be less, owing to our other wants. Such as it
is in extent, it is our duty to make it as efficient as we can,
with or without the prospect of a Russian invasion 5 and
this is the only way in which we can prepare for that or any
other distant and uncertain crisis. On the approach of such
an event we must have reinforcements of European troops
from England to any amount required, and we must in-
crease our native force according to the exigency of the
time. We could not long exist in a state of adequate pre-
paration, as we should be utterly ruined by the expense.*

I may give one more extract from his official papers — it
was written when he was Lieutenant-Governor of the North-
Western Provinces — showing the just and generous senti-
ments with which he addressed himself to the consideration
of our relations with the Native States of India : ' Several
questions,' he said, ' have lately occurred, in which our in-
terests and those of other powers and individuals are at
variance, and in the decision of which we are likely to be
biased by regard foi our own benefit, unless we enter with
a liberal spirit into the claims and feelings of others, and

make justice alone the guide of our conduct In aD

these cases, the right on our part to come to the decision

628 SIR CHARLES MBTCALFB. [1837—38.

apparently most beneficial for our own interests^ seems to
me to be doubtfid. Had our right been clear, I should be
far firom having any desire to suggest its relinquishment.
But when the right is doubtfid^ when we are to be judges
in our own cause, when, firom our power, there is little or
no probability of any resistance to our decision, it behoves
us, I conceive, to be very carefiil lest we should be unjustly
biased in our own favour, and to be liberal only in examin-
ing the claims and pretensions of other parties. The Chris-
tian precept, *' Do as you would be done by," must be
right in politics as well as in private life \ and even in a
self-interested view we should, I believe, gain more by the
credit of being just and liberal to others, than by using our
power to appropriate to ourselves everything to which we
could advance any doubtfiil pretension.*

So Metcalfe returned to England, in the early part of
1838, after an absence of thirty-eight years. He had no
thought of any further employment in the public service,
except that which might be entailed upon him by the
necessities of a seat in Parliament. He had an abundance
of the world*s wealthy he was unmarried; and he had
done so much work that he might well content himself to
be idle at the close of his life. Moreover, there was another
and an all-sufficient reason why he should seek this autum-
nal repose. He had in India enjoyed better health than
the majority of his countrymen, although he had taken no
especial pains to preserve it. He had worked hard 3 he
had lived well 3 and he had resorted very fireely to the

X838.] METCALFE IN ENGLAND. 629

great prophylactic agencies of air and exercise. Still, a
naturally robust constitution had carried him through nearly
forty years of unbroken work beneath an Indian sun. But
the seeds of a painful and a fatal disease had been sown — at
what precise time cannot be declared 9 but the first apparent
symptoms manifested themselves at Calcutta, when a friend
one day called his attention to a drop of blood on his cheek.
It was the first discernible sign of a malignant cancer, which
was to eat into his Hfe and make existence a protracted
agony. From that day there was perceptible an angry
appearance of the skin. But the progress of the malady
was so gradual, and it was attended with so little uneasiness^
that neither did Metcalfe consult a medical practitioner,
nor did the ailment attract the notice of the professional
adviser who attended him. But^ at the latter end of 1837,
the malady had increased so much that he thought it
necessary to take advice ^ the treatment was not effective,
and soon afterwards Metcalfe returned to £ngland. There
he consulted Sir Benjamin Brodie, who prescribed for him,
but without efiect There was, however, little pain, although
the disease had assumed the shape of a decided ulcerous
affection of the cheek; and so Metcalfe allowed time to
pass, and neglected the complaint until no human agency
could arrest it.

Of this sad story I must presently write more in detail.
Meanwhile, Sir Charles Metcalife is at Fern Hill, the paternal
estate in Berkshire, which he had inherited from his elder
brother. It had been his for a quarter of a century, and its
revenues had been carefully nursed 5 for Metcalfe's official
salary had been always more than enough for his uses, not-

630 SIR CHARf^S METCALFE. [1839.

withstanding bis overflowing hospitality and the unfailing
cheerfulness of his giving. So he found himself a well-to-
do country gentleman, and having carried home all his Indian
hospitality, he soon filled his house with relatives and friends.
But it was a very unsatisfactory state of life. He was alone,
in a crowd ) imcomfortable in the midst of luxury 5 poor
though surrounded by all that wealth could purchase 3 and
always in a hurry without having anything to do. Liberal as
he was, and accustomed to a profuse style of living, he was
appalled by the extravagance of the servants* hall^ and often
longed for the self-supporting, rice-eating Khitmudgars and
Bearers of the old time. Many years before, in his previsions
of English life, he anticipated this state of things, and declared
that he would wrestle against it. He found it even worse
than he expected, and he soon set his face against it. He had
not been many months in England, when he wrote to Mrs
Monson : *■ I have made up my mind to part with Fern
Hill whenever I can make an arrangement for it to my
satisfaction. My reasons for quitting are these : Firstly, the
expense of living here is too great 3 there bdng, in my opin-
ion, more satisfactory and better uses for what income I
have than spending it all on the mere eating and drinking
of a large house and establishment. Secondly, the life is
not suited to my disposition. I should like greater quiet
and retirement, and the occasional enjoyment of affectionate
society as a treat. A continual and incessant succession of
company is too much for me. Thirdly, the only remedy
is flight 5 for neither can I reduce my establishment while
I live in this house, nor can I shut my doors whilst I have
accommodation for friends. Elsewhere, if I oontiuue a

1839] THOUGHTS OF PARLIAMENT 631

private man, I can be more retired 5 and retirement is best
suited to my nature. Elsewhere I could live, I think, with
sufficient hospitality on a fourth of what I should spend
here, and as I have no desire to hoard, the difference may,
I trust, be made more beneficial to others than it can be
whilst wasted on a lazy, discontented establishment. If I
go into Parliament, which I shall do, if I have an oppor-
tunity, the only alteration in my present plans will be, that
I must reside for seven or eight months in London, and so
far deprive myself of retirement for the sake of public
duty.' — [Fehruary 25, 1839.]

For many years this seat in Parliament had been one of
his most cherished day-dreams. ' But now that all outward
circumstances seemed to place it within reach, inward ob-
stacles arose to retard his possession of the prize. The sensi-
tiveness and delicacy of his nature caused him to revolt
against the ordinary means by which entrance to the great as-
sembly of the nation is obtained. He would neither buy nor
beg a seat. Bribery was repugnant, and canvassing was distaste-
ful, to him. His more experienced friends, therefore, assured
him that small and large constituencies were equally beyond
his reach. He, however, was content to wait. The oppor-
tunity of drifting into Parliament blamelessly and pleasantly
might some day arise. Meanwhile, he could familiarize
himself with the details of European politics, and, by
maturing his opinions on all the great questions of the day,
strengthen his chance of some day realizing the aspirations
of the Eton cloisters and charming a listening Senate. His
convictions were mostly those of advanced liberalism. He
was against the finality of the Reform Bill -, he was eager

6^ SIR CHARLES METCALFE. [i%j^

for the repeal of the Corn-laws, fcnr the overthrow of Protest-
ant ascendancy in Ireland, and for the abolition of Church-
rates. He inclined towards Vote by Ballot, Short Parlia-
ments, and the exclusion of the Bishops from the House of
Lords. The more he thought of these changes, the more
he warmed towards them, and at last his enthusiasm broke
out in a pamphlet entitled Friendly Advice to Conservatives,
in which these views were expounded. But it was not
decreed that he should ever stand forth to ' head a party
struggling for liberty,* in any other than this literary con-
flict.*

For soon a new and undreamt-of field of public service
lay stretched before him, Und he was invited to occupy it
by the responsible rulers of the land. Rumour had, ever
since his return to £ngland, been very busy with his name.
He had been assigned to all sorts of places and appoinXments,
likely and unlikely ; but now there was some solid found-
ation for the story of his re-employment. 'Those who
have sent me to Paris or to Ireland,' he wrote to Mrs
Monson, 'seem to have been wrong, for the Almighty
ruler of all things seems to have ordained that I am to go
to Jamaica. Who would have thought of such a destina-
tion ? This proposal has been made to me, most unexpect-
edly, of course, on my part, by Lord Normanby, Secretary
of State for the Colonies, and the post being one of honour,

• He was very nearly presenting himself to the electors of Glas-
gow in place of his friend Lord William Bentinck, who wished to
resign in his favour, but who died before he could vacate the seat
Before this event occurred, Metcalfe's mind had been diverted to
other objects.

X839-] GOVERNOR OF JAMAICA. 633

owing to the difficulties at present besetting it, and the
prospect of rendering important service, I have considered
it a public duty to undertake the charge, and have accepted
it without a moment's hesitation. I have risen in tlie East,
and must set in the West. It is a curious destiny.* To what
immediate .influences the Indian civilian owed his nomin-
ation to a post in the other hemisphere is not very apparent $
but I am inclined to think that the nomination is, in part
at least, attributable to the strong language of admiration
in which Lord 'William Bentinck had written of his some-
time colleague to the Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne.
* No man,* he wrote, at the dose of a glowing appeal in his
friend's favour,* ' has shown greater rectitude of conduct

or more independence of mind We served together

for nearly seven years. His behaviour to me was of the
noblest kind. He never cavilled upon a trifle, and never
yielded to me on a point of importance.*

With what feelings Metcalfe regarded the appointment
may be further gathered from what he wrote of it to Sir
Charles Trevelyan, who had laid the foundation of his own
fame, as an assistant to Metcalfe at Delhi : 'The possibility
of serving in the West Indies never entered into my imagin-
ation. Neither had I any desire to quit England. The
mode in which I was ambitious of devoting my humble
services to the country was as an independent Member of
Parliament, and it was my intention to embrace any good
opportunity of seating myself there. In every other respect
I longed for retirement, and was bent on arrangements for

* It was written with reference to the question of Metcalfe's liber«
ation of the Indian Press.

^ S/Id CHARLES METCALFE. [1839.

securing it in a greater degree than I had previously found
practicable. While in this mind, and with these views, I
was surprised by a proposal to undertake the government
of Jamaica, and assented without a moment*8 hesitation, for
there was a public duty of importance to be performed, and
we are bound, I conceive, to make ourselves useful to our
country whenever a prospect of being so presents itself. If
I succeed in reconciling that valuable colony to the mother
country, and promoting the welfare of both, I shall be
gratified. The attempt will be a labour of love. If I foil,
I shall have the consolation of having devoted myself
heartily to the task, and can again seek the retirement
which, with reference exclusively to my own ease and
comfort, I prefer to anything else. I presume that you
mean to return to India, and I shall be glad to find that
your benevolent zeal and distinguished talent are again at
work in that important field. The immense strides which
we have recently taken in our political arrangements
and military exertions will either raise our power greatly
beyond its former pitch, or by causing our expenses to
exceed our resources, will make it more precarious than
ever. In either case our country will require the best
exertions of its ablest servants, and your future career, I
doubt not, will be even more distinguished than your past.'
Congratulations most cordial, and expressions of pleasure
most sincere, poured in upon Metcalfe from all quarters
before he took his departure for the West Indian island.
But there was not one, perhaps, which more rejoiced his
heart than that which he received from his old master —
ixoxsi the statesman at whose feet he had learnt the first

1839.1 GOVERNOR OF JAMAICA. 635

lessons of official life. And no one rejoiced more than
Lord Wellesley in the elevation of his former pupil. * It
Is a matter,* he wrote, ' of cordial joy and affectionate pride
to me to witness the elevation of a personage whose great
talents and virtues have been cultivated under my anxious
care, and directed by my hand to the public service in
India 5 where, having filled the first station in the Govern-
ment of that vast empire with universal applause, his merits
and exalted reputation have recommended him to his
Sovereign and his country as the man best qualified to con-
summate the noblest work of humanity, justice, and piety
ever attempted by any State since the foundation of civilized
society. You have been called to this great charge by the
free, unsolicited choice of your Sovereign 5 and that choice
is the universal subject of approbation by the voice of her
whole people: no appointment ever received an equal
share of applause. In a letter which I had the honour of
receiving from you, and which is published in my Indian
despatches, you are pleased to say that you were educated
in my school, and that it was the school of virtue, integrity,
and honour. That school has produced much good frmt
for the service of India. You are one of the most dis-
tinguished of that produce, and in your example it is a high
satisfaction to me to observe that the benefits of my institu-
tion are now extended beyond the limits of that empire for
whose good government it was founded.'

In August, 1839, ^^^ Charles Metcalfe embarked for
Kingston, and on the 21st of September he assumed charge
of the Government of Jamaica. There were many difficult
problems to solve^ for the emancipation of the blacks bad

636 S/H CHARLES MBTCALFB. [1839.

produced a great social and industrial reTolution 5 and the
transition-fitate, which had arisen, required veiy careful and
adroit management. But he used to sa7 that the work of
government would be easy and pleasant to him if it were
not for the Baptist missionaries. He had not been long in
the island before a leading minister of that persuasion
declared openly that, though their new governor hoped to
find Jamaica a bed of roses, they would take care that every
rose should have its thorns. ' On my taking charge of the
Government,' wrote Metcalfe, *the course which I laid
down for myself was to conciliate all parties, and by the aid
of all parties to promote the happiness and welfare of
Jamaica. I have reason to believe that I have succeeded,

with the exception of the Baptist missionary party I

have naturally asked myself why, having apparently suc-
ceeded in conciliating all parties, I have failed with respect
to that of the Baptist missionaries ? I have conducted my-
self towards them as I have towards every other denomina-
tion of Christian ministers in the island. I have subscribed
with the same readiness to their chapels and schools when-
ever I have had an opportunity. I have not allowed the
opinions which I have been forced to entertain of their
political proceedings to influence my behaviour or demean-
our towards them.' He was driven, therefore, reluctantly
to conclude, that the obstacle to his success with this par-
ticular section of the community lay in the catholicity of
his benevolence. He loved all men, all races, all classes.
He had, during nearly the whole of his adult life, been
familiar with dusky faces, and had been ever kindly dis-
posed towards people vulgarly described as of ^ black

1839.] GOVERNOR OF JAMAICA, 637

-— ^— »— ~— ^~—~'^— ~ 1 '

blood*' His heart was as open towards the negro popula-
tion as towards any other class of her Majesty's subjects in
the West Indies ; but he could not bring himself to straiten
his sympathies in such a manner as to refuse to the white
man the hand of brotherhood that he extended to the black.
He knew that the latter had once belonged to a down-
trodden race^ and that it would take years of generous
kindness to compensate them for all the injuries which they
had borne \ but he believed that the best means of insuring,
for them this generous kindness was to narrow the gulf
between the two races — ^not to keep alive all animosities,
old memories of past wrong. But this wise and truly
Christian policy was distasteful to the Christians of the
Baptist Missionary Society. Metcalfe tried to inculcate the
forgiveness of injtiries and the extension of brotherly love
between the black and the white races. But the Baptists
taught other lessons 5 and a quarter of a century afterwards
their ' bloody instructions returned to plague the inventor.* *
Whilst Sir Charles Metcalfe was governing Jamaica,
there was a change of government at home. A Conservative
ministry was established in Downing-street. Lord Stanley
(as I write. Lord Derby) passed into the Colonial Office ;
but Metcalfe, though a high-pressure Liberal, was not suffi-
ciently a party man to be at all disturbed by the change.

* I gladly break off here from the pursuit of a painful subject
But it ought to be stated that Metcalfe carried with him to Jamaica
very strong prepossessions in favour of the Baptist missionaries. He
had known many eminent members of that conmiunion in India (in-
cluding the venerable Dr Car^y), and among the farewell addresses
he had received at Agra was one from the Baptist missionaries,
thanking him for the countenance he had always afiforded them.

638 SIR CHARLES METCALFE, [1839-41.

•

If he could observe any difference of policy, it was in a
more catholic apprehension of the situation, and a more
generous support of the opinions he had expressed, and the
line of conduct he had desired to follow. Lord Stanley
nimself had, ministerially, emancipated the blacks of the
West Indies. He was not likely to close his heart against
the emancipated race 3 but he was far too good and wise
to take a limited, one-sided view of the obligations of
humanity in such a crisis, and to think that the duties of the
parent State were confined to the protection and encourage-
ment of the coloured population of the colony. When,
therefore. Sir Charles Metcalfe thought that the time had
come when he might consistently lay down the reins of
government, he was very anxious that it should not be
thought that the change of Government had caused him to
hasten the day of his retirement. ' I have given notice to
the new ministers,* he wrote in November, 1841, 'that I
may soon send in my resignation, in order that they may
be prepared for it, and look about for my successor. I have
done this in a manner which will preclude the idea that the
change of ministry is the cause of my retirement, there
being no reason for putting it on any ground but the true
one, which is that, having done what I came to do — by
which I mean the reconciliation of the colony with the
mother country — I see no necessity for staying any longer.*
So Metcalfe prepared himself to return to England, well
satisfied that he had not laboured in vain. What he did in
the West Indian colony has been thus comprehensively
described by himself : 'When,' he wrote in the letter to
the Colonial Secretary referred to above, ' the ofier of the

1841—42] DEPARTURE FROM JAMAICA, 639

Grovemorship of this island and its dependencies was con-
veyed to me, my only inducement in accepting it was the
hope of rendering some service to my country by beconung
instrumental in the reconciliation of the colony to the mother
country. That object was accomplished soon after my
arrival by the good sense and good feeling of the colonists,
who readily and cordially met the conciliatory disposition
which it was my duty to evince towards them. The next
subject which attracted my attention was the unsatisfactory
feeling of the labouring population towards-their employers.
This has naturally subsided into a state more consistent with
the relations of the parties, and there is no longer any ground
of anxiety on that account. Other dissensions in the com-
munity, which grew out of the preceding circumstances, have
either entirely or in a great degree ceased, and order and
harmony, with exceptions which will occasionally occur in
every state of society, may be said to prevail.' *

In the following May, a successor having been appointed
in the person of Lord Elgin, Sir Charles Metcalfe, amidst
a perfect shower of warm-hearted valedictory addresses,

* I do not profess, in this account of certain officers of the (East)
Indian Services, to give a just narrative of Metcalfe's West Indian, or
of his subsequent Canadian administration. I may, however, mention
here, in illustration of the military instincts of which I have before
spoken, that he devoted himself very assiduously to the improvement
of the sanitary condition of the English soldier, especially in respect
of his location on the hill country. In this good work Sir William
Gomm, who commanded the troops, went hand in hand with him —
neither leading and neither following. Perhaps, in a former record
of this, I did not sufficiently acknowledge the obligations of humanity
to Sir William Gomm.

640 -S/iP CHARLES METCALFE, [184a

embarked again for the mother country. When he arrived
in England, the malady of which I have spoken had grown
upon him \ he suffered much pain 5 and it was his first care
now to obtain the best surgical and medical advice. So he
sent at once for his old Calcutta friend and professional ad-
viser, Mr Martin,* who went into consultation on the sub
ject with Sir Benjamin Brodie and Mr Keate. The ulcer-
ous affection of the cheek had been much increased by the
climate of Jamaica, with its attendant plague of flies, and
perhaps by unskilful treatment But his letters to England
had made no mention of the complaint, and he had gener-
ally said that he was in excellent health. It was now
clearly a most formidable disorder, and only to be combated
by remedies of a most painful character. The diseased
part, it was thought, might be cut out with the knife, or
burnt out with caustic. The latter mode of treatment was
finally approved. Metcalfe was told that it might destroy
' the cheek through and through $ * but he only answered,
' Whatever you determine shall be done at once.* So the
caustic was applied. The agony was intense, but he bore
it without a murmur. His quiet endurance of pain was
something, indeed, almost marvellous.

The success of the operation was greater even than was
expected. The sufferer was removed to Norwood for quiet
and country air, and he wrote thence that the diseased part
looked better than it had done for many years, but that
there was no certainty of a permanent cure. From Nor-
wood he went to Devonshire, where a country-house had

* Now Sir James Ranald Martin.

t^.] GOVERNOR-GENERAL OF CANADA. 641

been taken for him near Honiton, and where he remained
for some time in the enjoyment of the affectionate society
of his sister, Mrs Smythe. But in the beginning of the
new year he was roused from the tranquil pleasures of his
country life by reports that it was the intention of Sir Ro-
bert Peel's Government to invite him to proceed as Go-
vernor-Gteneral to Canada. At first he laughed at the
credulity of his friends who wrote to him on the subject.
* I have no more idea of going to Canada,* he wrote to Mr

Ross Mangles, ' than of flying in the air The only

thing that I have the least incHnation for is a seat in Par-
liament, of which, in the present predominance of Toryism
among the constituencies, there is no chance for a man
who is for the Abohtion of the Corn-laws, Vote by Ballot,
Extension of the Suffrage, Amelioration of the Poor-laws
for the benefit of the poor, equal rights to all sects of Chris-
tians in matters of religion, and equal rights to all men in
civil matters, and everything else that to his understanding
seems just and right — and at the same time is totally dis-
qualified to be a demagogue — shrinks like a sensitive plant
from public meetings, and cannot bear to be drawn from
close retirement, except by what comes in the shape of real
or fancied duty to his country.* But Httle as he thought
of it at that time, the claims of duty were even then about
to withdraw him from his retirement. Two days after these
lines were written, the invitation to proceed to Canada
reached him at Deer Park. The letter proposing the ar-
rangement was playfiilly, but only too truly, described as
Lord Stanley's ' fatal missive.' Sir Charles Metcalfe went

VOL. I. 41

!

64a S/H CHARLES METCALFE. [1843.

to Canada as he went to Jamaica, because he believed that
it was his duty to go ; but the arms of death were around
him as he embarked.

Into the history of the troubled politics of Canada at
that time it would be beyond the scope of this Memoir to
enter in detail. To Metcalfe everything was new and
strange. There were many perplexing problems, the solu-
tion of which was beyond the range of his forty years'
experience of public life. He had for the first time to cope
with all the difficulties and embarrassments of Grovemment
by Party — or, in other words, by a Parliamentary majority
— and with the complications arising firom a conflict of
nationalities in a singularly varied population. He found,
not much to his surprise, that as the representative of the
monarchical principle of the constitution, he was expected
to suffer himself to dwindle down into a mere cjrpher.
But he believed that to consent to this would be to abandon
his duty to his sovereign. * To the question at issue,' he
wrote to an old friend and fellow-collegian, 'which is,
whether the Governor is to be in some degree what his
title imports, or a mere tool in the hands of the party that
can obtain a majority in the representative body, I am, I
conceive, " vir Justus," and I certainly mean to be '* tenax
propositi," and hope '' si fractus illabatur orbis, impavidimi
ferient ruinae." ' To another old Indian friend he wrote :
' Fancy such a state of things in India, with a Mahomedan
Assembly, and you will have some notion of my position.
On a distinct demand from the Council for stipulations
which would have reduced me to a nonentity, I refused.
They instantly resigned, and were supported by the House

i843— 44-] GOVERNOR-GENERAL OF CANADA. 643

of Assembly. Since then I have not been able to form a
Council likely to carry a majority. I have now to strive
to obtain a majority in the present Parliament. If I fail in
that, I must dissolve and try a new one. I do not know
that I shall have a better chance in that 5 and if I fail then,
still 1 cannot submit, for that would be to surrender the
Queen's Government into the hands of rebels, and to be-
come myself their ignominious tool. I know not what the
end will be. The only thing certain is that I cannot yield.'
A dissolution was imminent. His enemies raged furiously
against him. They assailed him with bitterness, which
manifested itself in all shapes, from the light language of
ridicule to that of vehement indignation. Some called
him ' Old Squaretoes ' and ' Charles the Simple.' Others
denounced him as a designing despot and an unscrupulous
tyrant. The crisis was now upon him. An old and dear
friend, of whom much has been said in this volume, had
written to him from his quiet chambers in the Albany, saying :
' If you think only of your own comfort and content, or were
convinced that you were past more useful employment, you
might enjoy your repose with as good a conscience as I do 5
but if I had the energy and ability to fill such a place as
yours, I would not give the few. months of your approach-
ing crisis for a hundred years of unprofitable engagement.'

No man knew Charles Metcalfe better than Mount-
stuart Elphinstone — ^no man was more capable of reading
and appreciating his character in all its finest shades and
most subtle combinations. When Mr Gibbon Wakefield
wrote that remarkable pamphlet on the crisis in Canada, in
which there appeared an elaborate portrait of the Governor-

644 S/Jf CHARLES MBTCALPB, [1843—44.

Greneral, highly commendatoiy of his wonderful patience
and endurance^ hii almost saint-like temper^ and his constant
cheerfidness under the worst trials and provocations,* but
in which some doubt was expressed as to whether the gen-
tleness of his nature did not cause him to be sometimes
regardless of the duty of upholding his personal and official
dignity, Mr Elphinstone wrote to a friend, who had sent
him the book, saying : ' You cannot overrate the pleasure
with which I see justice done to Metcalfe, and I am very
much obliged to you for a publication in which he is so
favourably spoken of. I am not sure, however, that I can
admit that fidl justice is done to him even in it. The char-
acter given of him is admirable, even the part that seems
mere panegyric shows sagacity and discrimination. I cannot
quite agree with the censures, slight as they are. Metcalfe
has unquestionably such a temper as is seldom given to
man, but he surely is capable of indignation when there is
imything to call it forth, and is not likely to invite ill-usage
by showing himself wanting to his own dignity. I should
think he was cautious, almost timid, in deliberating, but
that he would be roused at once by opposition such as ap-
peared to him factious or imreasonable. I agree that he is
not well qualified to use the proper means for managing a

* The following passage is worthy of quotation : * I never witness-
ed such patience under provocation. I am speaking now of what I
saw myself, and could not have believed without seeing. It was not
merely quiet endurance, but a constant good-humoured cheerfulness
and lightness of heart in the midst of trouble enough to provoke a
saint or make a strong man ilL To those who, like me, have seen
three Governors of Canada literally worried to death, this was a
glorious spectacle.*

X843— 44«] GOVERNOR-GENERAL OF CANADA, 645

popular government, and that he even despises the use of
them 5 but I cannot admit that he does not see the end in
view, or the relation into which he wishes to bring the Go-
vernor and the popular branch of the Legislature. I think
his neglect of the means a misfortune. It is great weakness
to rely on management of individuals and parties (in which
Lord Sydenham so much excelled) for the permanent sup-
port of a system, but it is requisite for enabling some solid
measures to proceed without interruption. I think it is
his over-rating these supposed defects of Metcalfe's that has
most led Mr Wakefield to what I cannot but think a wrong
conclusion. I cannot think that the disputes between the
Grovernor-General and his council are to be ascribed to
mere ' incompatibility of character,' or to the parties not
understanding each other. Those causes, no doubt, had
their influence 5 but were there not other grounds of dis-
agreement, which no freedom of commimication could
have removed ? Lord Sydenham, it appears, conceded the
responsibility of ministers j Sir C. Bagot carried it into
practice, but in this crisis, when the strongest and firmest
hand was required to mark the boundary of this new dis-
tribution of power, he was incapacitated by sickness from
undertaking that work at all. The whole power fell into
the hands of the ministry, and Metcalfe had to reconquer
the most indispensable of his rights. In such circumstances,
I doubt if any modification of character, or any skill and
experience in parliamentary tactics, could have averted a
collision, and I need not say that I most fiilly concur with
Mr Wakefield in thinking that Metcalfe should have the
most full, open, and energetic support of Government. As

646 SIR CHARLES METCALFE, [1843—44.

to the particular sort of support which I understood you to
hint at (some distinguished mark of favour on the part of
the Crown), however much to be desired, it is, I am afraid,
scarcely to be hoped for. A peerage is already due to
Metcalfe for his services in Jamaica, and as he has no issue,
it would be a very moderate boon 5 but Peel has from fifty
to seventy applicants, many of whom rate even their public
services high : he stops their mouths by professing a resolu-
tion not to complete the work of the Whigs in swamping
the House of Lords 5 but if he once opens the door, '' like
to an entered tide they all rush by," and leave room for a
new inundation of claimants.*

But rightly to understand what were the heroic con-
stancy and courage of the man in the midst of all this
great sea of trouble, we must ever keep before us the fact
that he was suffering almost incessant physical pain, and
that a lingering and torturing death was before him. The
cancer which was eating into his face had destroyed the
sight of one eye, and he was threatened with total blind-
ness. He was compelled, therefore, to sit in a darkened
room, and to employ an amanuensis, and when he was
compelled to go abroad on public business, the windows
of his carriage were so screened as to exclude the dust and
the glare. Throughout the years 1843 and 1844 ^® dis-
ease had been steadily gaining groimd, in spite of all the
efforts and appliances of human skill. The Queen's Gro-
vernment had sent out to Canada a young surgical prac-
titioner of high promise, since abundantly fulfilled,
recommended by Sir Benjamin Brodie and Mr Martin,
who were well acquainted with the case. But neither the

I844--4S-] GOVERNOR-GENERAL OF CANADA, 647

skill of Mr Pollock,* nor his assiduous and tender ministra-
tions, could avail more than to palliate, in some small
measure, the more painfiil symptoms of his malady, and
by the end of 1844 he had returned to England, assured
that the cure of such a disease was beyond the reach of
surgery or medicine. Metcalfe had by this time ceased to
read or write for himself. At the beginning of 184J, by
the help of an amanuensis, he gave the following account
of himself to Mr Martin : 'I have three kind letters of yours
unanswered. So long as I had the use of my eyes, I hoped
that a day would come when I could take up my pen and
thank you for them 5 but to do that now I am obliged to
borrow the aid of another hand, as my right eye is quite
blind, and the other cannot be exerted with impunity. I
am compelled to abstain almost entirely from reading and
writing, both of which operations are performed for me j
thus much is in explanation of my not writing to you with
my own hand. Pollock has quitted me on his return to
London. I am exceedingly sorry to part with him, not
only as a medical adviser, of whose skill and judgment I
have a high opinion, and who had acquired considerable

* Mr G. D. Pollock, second son of General Sir George Pollock,
now surgeon to the Prince of Wales. Sir Charles Metcalfe thus wrote
of him : * I am most thankful to you and Sir Benjamin Brodie for all
your kindness, and I shall be obliged to you if you will tell him that
I am very sensible of it. Mr Pollock is arrived. He is very agree-
able and winning in his manners ; and his conversation, reputation,
and experience afford encouragement. He is about to have a consult-
ation with my other doctors, and will afterwards, I conclude, proceed
to business. I shall put myself entirely in his hands, and abide by
his judgment and treatment'

643 SJ/S CHARLES METCALFE. [1844—45.

experience regarding the state of my complaint^ but also as
a most agreeable companion^ in whose society I had great
pleasure. Highly as I think of Pollock^ I have lost all faith
in chloride of zinc 5 that powerful but destructive remedy
has been applied over and over again^ without efficacy^ to the
same parts of my cheek. The disease remains uneradicated^
and has spread to the eye and taken away its sight. This^
at leasts is my opinion^ although I am bound to hesitate in
entertaining it^ as I am not sure that Pollock is satisfied of
the extension of the actual disease to the eye ; but if it be
not the disease which has produced the blindness^ it must
be the remedy. I am inclined^ however, to believe that it is
in reality the disease, both from appearances and the con-
tinual pain. The complaint appears to me to have taken
possession of the whole of that side of the face, although
the surface is not so much ulcerated as it has heretofore
been. I feel pain and tenderness in the head, above the eye
and down the right side of the face as far as the chin, the
cheek towards the nose and mouth being permanently
swelled. I cannot open my mouth to its usual width, and
have difficulty in inserting and masticating pieces of food.
After all that has been done in vain, I am disposed to be-
lieve that a perfect cure is hopeless 3 I am, nevertheless, in
the hands of a doctor who is inclined to follow Pollock's
course, and by whose judgment I shall implicitly abide.
Having no hope of a cure, my chief anxiety now regards
my remaining eye, which sympathizes so much with the
other that I am not without fear of total blindness, which
is not a comfortable prospect, although, if it should come,
I shall consider it my duty to resign myself to it with cheer«

1845-] GOVERNOR-GENERAL OF CANADA, 649

■ ■ ■ ■ 11 i^— ^^■^■^■^— ■ ■ ■ I I » I ^-^»^^— ^— ^.^M^— ■ ■!■>■■■■ ■-■■■I.^. ,, ■■ ■

fulness. Under these circumstances you will readily
imagine that I should be very glad if I could return home^
both for the chance of benefit from the medical skill that
is to be found in the metropolis^ and independently of that^
for the sake of retirement and repose^ which are requisite
for an invalid such as I now am ; but I cannot reconcile it
to my own sense of duty to quit my post in the present
state of affairs in this country. I have no doubt of the
generous readiness of her Majesty's Government to meet
any application that I might make for permission to return^
but I have myself no inclination to abandon the loyal por-
tion of the community in Canada^ who in the recent crisis
have made a noble and successful stand in support of her
Majesty's Government. Uiitil, therefore, I see a satisfactory
state of things so far confirmed as to afford assurance that it
will be lasting, notwithstanding my departure, I shall not
entertain any idea of my own retirement so long as I have
bodily and mental health sufficient for the performance of
the duties of my office.'

As the year advanced his sufferings increased. In June
he wrote to the same cherished correspondent : ' I have no
hope of benefit firom anything. The malady is gradually
getting worse, although its progress from day to day is im-
perceptible. I cannot quit my post at present without the
certainty of mischievous consequences, and must, therefore,
perform my duty by remaining where I am, whatever may
be the result to myself personally.* But, although he
wrote thus to one who, whether present or absent, had
watched the disease in all its stages, he was in the habit of
describing his state lightly, and even jestingly, to his rela-

6so S/H CHARLES METCALFE, [1845.

tives and old correspondents. * A life of perpetual chloride
of zincy' he wrote to one of them, ' is far from an easy one.
There are, however, greater pains and afflictions in the
world, and I ought to be grateful for the many mercies
that I have experienced. .... The doctor has just been
with me, and says that the face looks very satisfactory.
N.B. I can*t shut my right one, and after the next applica-
tion I shall not be able to open my mouth — '' very satis-
factory.'* * But, in spite of all this, he went on unflinch-
ingly at his work. His intellect was never brighter, his
courage and resolution never stronger. The despatches
which he dictated at this time are amongst the best to
which he ever attached his name. But it was plainly not the
decree of Providence that he should have human strength
to struggle on much longer.

But even then there were great compensations. He
felt that he was doing his duty, and he knew that his devo-
tion to the public service was recognized both by the Queen
and her ministers. During the space of forty-five years he
had toiled unremittingly for the good of the State, in
foreign lands and under hostile skies $ he had scarcely known
either home or rest. And now he was about to receive his
reward. It came in a shape very welcome to him, for the
fire of ambition had burnt within him ever since the boyish
days when he had paced the Eton cloisters and indulged in
day-dreams of future fame. In the midst of a life rendered
endurable only by a feeling that he was doing some good
to his fellows, and that it was God's will thus to afflict
him, letters came to him from Lord Stanley and Sir Robert
Peel, informing him that it was her Majesty's desire to

1845.] THE PEERAGE, 651

raise him to the Peerage as soon as he had communicated to
Government his choice of a title. He elected to be called
by his own ancestral name. He appreciated the honour.
He accepted it gratefully. But he felt that it was ' too late.*
This honourable recognition of his past services would
have sustained and strengthened him, for the stimulus of
gratitude was thus added to his other incentives to exertion,
if it had been possible for the strong spirit to prevail against
the failure of the frail flesh. There were poHtical circum-
stances which in the early summer of 1845 seemed to render
it expedient that Metcalfe should remain at his post. ' It
will be seen,* he wrote in May to the Colonial Secretary,
' from the description of parties which I have submitted,
that the two parties in Lower and Upper Canada, which I
regard as disaffected, have a bitter animosity against me ;
and if it should ever become necessary to admit these parties
again into power, in preference to standing a collision with
the Legislative Assembly, a case would arise in which my
presence here might be rather prejudicial than beneficial, as
it would be impossible for me to place the slightest confi-
dence in the leaders of these parties. If any such necessity
should occur in my time, it would cause an embarrassment
much more serious to me than any difficulty that I have
hitherto had to encounter. Whatever my duty might dic-
tate I trust I should be ready to perform 5 but I cannot
contemplate the possibility of co-operating with any satis-
faction to myself with men of whom I entertain the opinions
that I hold with regard to the leaders of these parties.
Such an embarrassment wiU not be impossible if any portion
of the present majority fall off or become insensible of the

652 S/Je CHARLES METCALFE. [1845.

DecesBity of adhering together. It is with a view to avert
such a calamity that I consider my continuance at my post
to be important at the present period^ as a change in the
head of the Government might easily lead to the result
which I deprecate^ and which it will be my study to prevent
as long as I see any prospect of success.' So he strug-
gled on all through the summer months^ doing the best he
could^ but feelings at the same time> that his public useful-
ness was impaired by his physical condition^ and that it was
chiefly the moral influence of his presence in Canada that
enabled him to be of service to the Crown.

The autumn of that year found him more afliicted and
more helpless than he had ever been before. Still he was
unwilling to resign^ but he believed it to be his duty to
report to the Queen's ministers that his resignation might
soon be inevitable. On the 13 th of October he wrote to
Lord Stanley: 'My disorder has recently made a serious
advance^ aflecting my articulation and all the functions of
the mouth $ there is a hole through the cheek into the in-
terior of the mouth. My doctors warn me that it may soon
be physically impossible for me to perform the duties of my
office. If the season were not so far advanced towards the
winter, I should feel myself under the necessity of requesting
your Lordship to relieve me 3 but as such an arrangement
might require time and deliberation, I propose to struggle
on as well as I can, and will address your Lordship again on
this subject according to any further changes that may oc-
cur in my condition 3 in the mean while, I have considered
it to be my duty to apprize your Lordship of the probable
impossibility of my performing my ofiicial functions, in

1845O PROGRESS OF DISEASE. 653

order that you ma> be prepared to make such an arrange-
ment as may seem to be most expedient for the public
service.' And again on the 29th : ' I continue in the same
bodily state that I described by the last mail. I am unable
to entertain company or to receive visitors, and my official
business with public functionaries is transacted at my resi-
dence in the country instead of the apartment assigned for
that purpose in the public buildings in town. I am conse-
quently conscious that I am inadequately performing the
duties of my office, and if there were time to admit of my
being relieved before the setting in of the winter, I should
think that the period had arrived when I might, perfectly
in consistence with public duty, solicit to be relieved j but,
as the doctors say that I cannot be removed with safety
from this place during the winter, and as that season is fast
approaching, it becomes a question whether I can best per-
form my duty to my country by working on at the head of
the Grovemment to the best of my ability until the spring,
or by delivering over charge to other hands, and remaining
here as a private individual until the season may admit of my
return to Europe with safety. In this dilemma I have hither-
to abstained from submitting my formal resignation of my
office, and shall continue to report by each successive mail
as to my condition and capability of carrying on the duties
of my post.*

To the first of these letters Lord Stanley, whose kindly
sympathies and genial praises had cheered Metcalfe alike
in seasons of political anxieties and in hours of physical pain,
returned the following characteristic answer : ' I have re-
ceived the Queen's commands to express to your Lordship

6S4 SIR CHARLES METCALFE, [1845.

the deep concern with which her Majesty learns that the
state of your health is such as to render it necessary for you
to tender to her Majesty the resignation of the high and
arduous office the duties of which you have so ably fulfilled.
Her Majesty is aware that your devotion to her service has
led you^ amidst physical suffering beneath which ordinary
men would have given way, to remain at your post to the
last possible moment The Queen highly estimates this
proof of your public spirit j and in accepting your proffered
resignation, which in the present circumstances she feels it
impossible to decline, her Majesty has commanded me to
express her entire approval of the ability and prudence with
which you have conducted the affairs of a very difiScult
Grovernment, her sense of the loss which the public service
is about to sustain by your retirement, and her deep regret
for the cause which renders it unavoidable. These senti-
ments, I assure you, are fully participated in by myself and
the other members of her Majesty's Grovernment. I shall
take early steps for the selection of your permanent success-
or, though it is probable that some time must elapse before
he may be able to relieve you. In the mean time, you
will consider the acceptance of your resignation as taking
. effect from the period, whenever that may be, at which
you see fit to hand over the government provisionally to
Earl Cathcart.*

But even then, in his heroic constancy, he would not
decide for himself 5 he would not desert those who had
stood by him in the great constitutional conflict which had
recently agitated the colony. It was necessary, however,
as the autumn advanced, that the decision should be formed.

i84S] RETURN TO ENGLAND. 655

for the setting in of the winter would have closed the navi-
gation of the river and rendered impossible his departure
before the spring. So he called his ministry together at
the country-house near Montreal, in which he was then
residing, and placed the matter wholly in their hands. ' It
was a scene/ writes the biographer of Lord Metcalfe,
' never to be forgotten by any who were present, on this
memorable occasion, in the Governor-General*s sheltered
room. Some were dissolved in tears. All were agitated
by a strong emotion of sorrow and sympathy, mingled with
a sort of wondering admiration of the heroic constancy of
their chief. He told them, that if they desired his continu-
ance at the head of the Grovernment, — if they believed that
the cause for which they had fought together so manfidly
would suffer by his departure, and that they therefore coun-
selled him to remain at his post, he would willingly abide
by their decision 3 but that the Queen had graciously signi-
fied her willingness that he should be relieved, and that he
doubted much whether the adequate performance of his
duties, as the chief ruler of so extensive and important a
province, had not almost ceased to lie a physical possibility.
It need not be said what was their decision. They besought
him to depart, and he consented. A nobler spectacle than
that of this agonized man resolutely offering to die at his
post, the world has seen only once before.*

So Lord Metcalfe returned to England, and before him
lay the great object of his ambition — a seat in the Legisla-
tive Assembly of the Empire. But he felt that it was not
the decree of Providence that he should ever lift up his
voice in defence of those cherished principles which lay so

6s6 S/R CHARLES METCALFE. [1846.

near to his heart. He had written from Canada to his
sister^ saying : ' There was a time when I should have re-
joiced in a peerage, as affording me the privilege of devoting
the remainder of my life to the service of my Queen and
country in the House of Lords — in my mind a most hon-
ourable and independent position 3 but I doubt now whether
I shall ever be able to undertake that duty with any degree
of efficiency. My gratification, therefore, is confined to the
pleasure which must be derived firom so distinguished a
mark of approbation of my public services, and to that of
knowing that some kind hearts will rejoice at my elevation.
The mere rank and title, if divested by infirmities of the
power of rendering usefiil service in the House of Lords,
will be encumbrance, and will not add one jot to the happi-
ness which I still hope to enjoy in living in retirement with
you.* And now in England, with all the appliances of
European science at his command, and amidst all the restor-
ative influences of perfect repose and the gentle ministra-
tions of loving friends, it seemed less than ever to be God*s
will that he should take his place among the ' orators dis-
cussing important topics in the Senate House.* A few
more months of pain and it would all be over.

But with the pain there was no sorrow. There was in-
finite peace and a beautiful resignation within him, and his
habitual cheerfulness never wholly deserted him. He could
still rejoice in the society of loving friends and in the kind
words which came to him from a distance. Among other
compensations of this kind were the public addresses which
were voted to him — addresses striving to congratulate, but
coming only to console — which greeted him in his retire*

1846.] PUBLIC ADDRESSES TO HIM. 657

ment. A great meeting of the ' Civil and Military Serv-
ants of the East India Company and others personally con-
nected with India * was held at the Oriental Club. Men
who had held all kinds of honourable positions in India^
from Grovemor-Greneral downwards, vied with each other
in doing honour to the veteran statesman. Among them,
as he himself afterwards wrote, were * some whose public
service he had had the honour of superintending, some
with whom he had co-operated as colleagues, some who aa
schoolfellows had known him from boyhood, some who as
contemporaries had been engaged in the same field, and
many who, without his personal acquaintance, had never-
theless concurred to do him honour.' The names appended
to the address were so numerous, that when the parchment
was unrolled before him it covered the floor of his room.
He received it with deep emotion. ' It is easy,' he said,
' to bear up against ill-usage, but such kindness quite over-
comes me.' In the written answer, which he returned to
this address, he said : * Had I retired from the colonial ser-
vice of my country with health to enable me to discharge
other public functions, it would have been the highest satis-
faction to me to devote the rest of my life to those duties
in the Legislature devolving on the rank to which I have
been elevated by our most gracious sovereign j but as| it
appears to be the will of the Almighty that sickness and
infirmity should be the lot of my remaining days, I shall in
that state cherish the recollection of your kindness as one
of the greatest blessings I can enjoy. Proud of «ny relation
with the services in India, in which so many enunent men

have been formed and are continually rising, it is a source
VOL. i« 4a

658 S/H CHARLES METCALFE. [1846.

of indescribable pleasure to me that the approbation accorded
to my efforts in other quarters should meet with sympathy
from those personally connected with that splendid portion
of the British Empire^ and that one of the last acts of my
public life should be to convey to you my grateful sense of
the generous sentiments which you entertain.' To an ad-
dress received about the same time fi*om the inhabitants of
Calcutta^ who had built in his honour the Metcalfe Hall^
he replied in a few brief but touching sentences^ in which
he spoke of the infirmities which beset him and the hopeless
state of his healthy and concluded by saying, ' My anxious
hope that prosperity and every other blessing may attend
you will accompany me to the grave> which lies open at
my foot*

This was written in July. The end was, indeed, rapidly
approaching. He was then at Malshanger Park, near
Basingstoke. His sister^ Mrs Smjrthe, and other dear
friends were with him. To the last his courage and reso*
lution were conspicuous. He would not be confined to the
sick-room, but moved about, and without help, as long as
motion was possible,* and desired that ever3rthing should go

* ' On the 4th of September, Lord Metcalfe, for the first time^
did not leave his sleeping apartment The extreme debility of the
sufferer forbade any exertion. There was little apparent change
except in a disinclination to take the nourishment offered to him. On
the following morning, however, the change was very apparent It
was obvious that he was sinking &st Unwilling to be removed to
his bed, he sat for the greater part of the day in a chair, breathing
with great difficulty. In the afternoon he sent for the members of
his family, laid his hands upon their heads as they knelt beside him,
and breathed the blessing which he could not utter. Soon afterwards

1846.] HIS DEA TH, 659

on in his house as if no change were approaching.* He
was sensible of increasing weakness j but he was anxious to
hide his sufferings from the eyes of others, and never at any
time was the unselfishness of his nature more apparent than
when the hand of death was upon him. His loving-kind-
ness towards others was as beautiful as the patience which
clothed him as with a garment j and in the extremity of his
own sufferings he had ever a heart to feel for the sufferings
of others, and a hand to help and to relieve. And so, gen-
tle and genial and courteous to the last, he passed away
from the scene, solaced beyond all by the word of God that
was read to him, and by the sweet sounds of his sister's
harp. The bodily anguish which had so long afflicted him
ceased 5 perfect peace was upon him 5 and a calm sweet
smile settled down on his long-tortured face, as with an as-
sured belief in the redeeming power of Christ's blood, he
gave back his soul to his Maker.

He was buried in the family vault of the Metcalfes, ir

he was conveyed to his bed. . . . The last sounds which reached him
were the sweet strains of his sister's harp. . . ** How sweet those
sounds are ! " he was heard to whisper almost with his d3dng breath.
—Life oj Lord Metcalfe,

* * He seemed unwilling to do or to suffer anything that would
bring the sad truth painfully to the minds of others. He wished,
therefore, that everything should go on in his household as though
his place were not soon to be empty. . . . He would converse cheer-
fully on all passing topics, public and private, and his keen sense of
humour was unclouded to the last.* — Life and Correspondence of
Lord Metcalfe, The biographer adds : * A friend writing to me
regarding Lord Metcalfe's last days, says : **A month before his
death I have seen him laugh as heartily at a joke in Punch as the
stoutest of us." '

66o S/If CHARLES METCALFE, [1846.

the little parish church of Winkfield, near his paternal
estate ; and there may be seen a tablet to his memory bear-
ing the following inscription^ inspired by the genius of
Macaulay. Both are summed up, in the monumental
record, with so much beauty and truth, it leaves nothing to
be said about the career or the character of Charles Met-
calfe.

i^ar t|iis Stone is 3Catlr
CHARLES THEOPHILUS, FIRST And last LORD METCALFE,

A STATESMAN TKXKD IN MANY HIGH POSTS AND DIFFICULT CONJUNCTURES,

AND POUND EQUAL TO ALX..
THB THRKB GREATEST DEPENDENCIES OF THE BRITISH CROWN

WERE SUCCESSIVELY INTRUSTED TO HIS CARE.
IN INDIA HIS FORTITUDE, HIS WISDOM, HIS PROBITY, AND HIS

MODERATION

ARE HELD IN HONOURABLE REMEMBRANCE

BY MEN OF MANY RACES, LANGUAGES, AND RELIGIONS.

IN JAMAICA, STILL CONVULSED BY A SOCIAL REVOLUTION,

HE CALMED THE EVIL PASSIONS

WHICH LONG SUFFERING HAD ENGENDERED IN ONE CLASS,

AND LONG DOMINATION IN ANOTHER.

IN CANADA, NOT YET RECOVERED FROM THE CALAMITIES OF CIVIL WAR.

HE RECONCILED CONTENDING FACTIONS

TO EACH OTHER AND TO THE MOTHER COUNTRY.

PUBLIC ESTEEM WAS THE JUST REWARD OF HIS PUBLIC VIRTUE,

BUT THOSE ONLY WHO ENJOYED THE PRIVILEGE OF HIS FRIENDSHIP

COULD APPRECIATE THE WHOLE WORTH OP HIS GENTLE AND

NOBLE NATURE.
COSTLY MONUMENTS IN ASIATIC AND AMERICAN CITIES
ATTEST THB GRATITUDE OF NATIONS WHICH HE RULED ;
THIS TABLET RECORDS THE SORROW AND THB PRIDE
WITH WHICH HIS MEMORY IS CHERISHED BY PRIVATE AFFBCTIOll '

HE WAS BORN THB 30TH DAY OF JANUARY, 178$.
HB DIED THB 5TH DAY OF SEPTEMBER, 18461

LOVDOH: PRINTED BT WILLIAM CIX>WRS AND 80XS, LDCITSD
flTAHFOBD STREET AND CHABINO CROSS.

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